


Fools In The Rain

by Nonexistenz, WeldersMightyB (TFWDuke)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Demon Dean Winchester, Digital Art, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, angel!cas - Freeform, deanmon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:07:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24434047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonexistenz/pseuds/Nonexistenz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TFWDuke/pseuds/WeldersMightyB
Summary: When Dean returns to the bunker as a Knight of Hell and refuses the cure that Sammy desperately wants him to take, it leaves Dean, Sam, and Cas at odds as they struggle to find normal. Sammy seems reluctant to accept Dean, while Cas somehow finds it easy. Ignoring the angel blade that he put to Dean’s throat, of course.Charlie brings a much-needed distraction in the form of a case, but it’s never that simple. A spell brings new and old feelings to light, making Dean question everything he knew about himself. Not only does Dean need to face his feelings for Cas, but now Sammy knows how he feels about his hair. That was just salt in the wound, for sure.And even though Dean has no idea what his life is anymore, he finds himself giving in to temptation, eyes black and lips in a grin.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 17
Kudos: 146





	1. Mourning and Pie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for PPB 2020. 
> 
> I want to thank Nonexistenz for the wonderful art for this. It was a pleasure working with you, and I sincerely love your art. I hope we can work together again.

_Listen to me, Dean Winchester. What you're feeling right now - it's not death. It's life - a new kind of life. Open your eyes, Dean. See what I see. Feel what I feel. And let's go take a howl at that moon._

It wasn’t the voice of the King of Hell that shocked Dean as he began to take in his surroundings; it was the mere fact that Dean in no uncertain terms could _feel_ Crowley there near him. He felt the force of the demon’s energy as he approached the bed, Dean’s eyes still shut tight. He tried to process where he was - it felt like his bed underneath him but he wasn’t sure exactly how he had gotten there.

He felt Crowley’s hand on his wrist, which would have normally made him flinch at the contact. But he felt like he was underwater, his brain not catching up to the sensations he was experiencing. Crowley slipped something into his hand - the First Blade, by the feel of its hilt in his fist- and suddenly he felt the night come back to him in a wave. 

Metatron had stabbed him. He should be dead. _A new kind of life._ Dean opened his eyes to meet Crowley’s gaze and he knew his own were black as he looked up at the demon. Crowley wore a smug air about him, but Dean nearly missed it, seeing for the first time what Meg and Cas had described over the years, the demon’s true face.

He could see Crowley’s tainted and blackened soul rippling within his meat suit, seeming both amorphous and too large to fit inside the skin. Dean watched as it rippled and briefly took on the shape of a skull around Crowley’s face and long bull-like horns near his head. He swore he even caught a flicker of a tail dancing near Crowley’s back, though he was unsure of its validity at the moment. He instinctively tried to focus on Crowley’s human face, trying to force himself to not see the soul itself. He managed to make it not overwhelmingly obvious in his vision before he felt a bit of a strain in his head, like pulling a rubber band to the point just before it snaps.

Dean sat up slowly, taking in the current situation. He had died, there was no denying that. But now, due to the Mark he was confident, he sat in his bed as a demon. He felt power like nothing he had ever dreamed of in his chest, and for just one second of time, he forgot finally what had tormented him for years. The guilt of his choices was finally off his shoulders, and he could breathe.

He paused again as he realized what that might mean for him moving forward. He felt a wave of panic hit him, but he kept his features calm in front of Crowley. What did this mean for his relationships? Was he a threat, a danger, to Sam and Cas now that he was free of guilt? He felt the urge to run, to hide himself away where he would be free from them, no worries about whether his new life would cause them harm. He slid off the side of his bed, taking in his bedroom one last time, before turning to face the demon beside him.

“Let’s get out of here.”

~~~

Sam twisted the bottle in his hands. The beer in the dark glass had long grown warm, but Sam didn’t really seem to notice. His right thumb was absently picking at the torn corner of a label Sam hadn’t stopped to read. He had found himself once again sitting on the floor of Dean’s room, as he had every passing day since the body had vanished. Sam wished he had just buried his brother, not leaving him to be taken by one of Crowley’s goons. That had almost been as painful as holding his brother as his last breath had left him.

Empty beer and liquor bottles littered the carpet around him, leftovers from his previous days of self-destruction. Sam found that the pain was much more manageable when he was where he felt closest to Dean. The near-constant IV drip of alcohol didn’t hurt the cause either. He winced every morning when he first saw the mess he had created of Dean’s sanctuary, hating himself for disrespecting the one room that had been a cherished safe zone to his brother. 

Sam’s drunken gaze drifted around the room, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “You really did nest when we found this place, didn’t you?” It was the first time that Sam could remember Dean unpacking his things so completely. He had pictures of their mom on the nightstand, books thrown haphazardly on an actual bookshelf. Sam was pretty sure Dean even had a secret stash of _Busty Asian Beauties_ hidden in here somewhere as well. Sam chuckled at the idea. They were both well past 30 at this point. 

“Why you still feel the need to hide your porn, I’ll never know.” Sam’s stomach dropped as the words left his lips. “You felt the need…” He corrected himself, realizing that it was the first time he had erroneously used the present tense to refer to his brother since Metatron had murdered him. 

Sam’s knuckles were white as he gripped the forgotten bottle in his hands. Anger and rage pulsed through his veins, burning away the whimsical air that had taken hold of his mourning. Hatred emerged once again, his ever-present companion since the loss of his brother. They had lost each other before, but this time was different. He had tried his usual plan of attack: summon a demon, make the deal. However, Crowley had never come. Sam wasn’t even sure what he would have offered the King of Hell, had he shown. 

Defeated once more, Sam had turned tail and headed back to the body, to begin prepping Dean for burial. His world had been shattered when he returned, only to find his brother missing. In his state of shock, Sam hadn’t cried. Hell, he downright forgot to even call Cas until Dean’s phone had rung the first time. He found himself instead drowning in a perpetual bottle, ignoring the sorrow that endlessly seemed to be verging on smothering him. 

Deep down, he knew what his problem was: without a body to salt and burn, he had no way to truly mourn the loss of the last family he had. He knew it was foolish and crazy, but without a body, he found he still harbored an insane hope that Dean was out there somewhere. Rationally, Sam knew his brother was dead. He had held his lifeless corpse in his arms until long after the flesh had run cold. He had hefted the dead weight of it into Baby for the long drive home. 

Once the body disappeared, however, he found the nagging hope biting away at him during every sober moment he had experienced since. That was probably the actual reason he had stayed drunk these last three weeks, if he were being truly honest with himself. Because if he were sober long enough, he found, the hope would only last so long. Then the suffocating wave of despair would roll over him. It had been so thick that he had nearly passed out from the weight of it. That had been the first morning after Dean had died. Ever since, Sam had refused to tempt that demon inside himself again; every moment since had been spent with a drink in his hand.

The radio had been playing idly since days forgotten at this point, but just then, Zep’s “Traveling Riverside Blues” began to wind its way through the room. Sam’s lips just barely managed to turn up at the sound of one of Dean’s favorite songs. He poured a shot of beer out for his brother, not caring that he was soiling the carpet, and then lifted the bottle in the general direction of the sky. “Here’s one for you, Big Brother. Wherever you are,” Sam whispered to his childhood companion, protector, and best friend. 

He brought the bottle to his lips, but the warm liquid did little to soothe the hurt inside him tonight. For some reason, the skunky flavor of it felt like the final stab to his gut. With a broken outcry of anguish, Sam threw the still mostly full bottle at the radio. The glass shattered, but the now soaked radio kept on playing, taunting him. Sam finally did what he had not done since the night his brother had passed. 

He cried.

~~~

Cas sat alone at a table in McKinney, Texas. _Emporium Pies_ was the latest stop on his journey, _The Drunken Nut_ his most recent conquest. Every day since Dean’s death, Cas had visited a different pie shop, trying one pie at each location. 

He told himself that, with his dying grace quickly fading away, he had nothing better to do with his time left on Earth. But secretly, he knew better than that. Eating these pies, even surrounded by others enjoying the desserts, he felt close to his lost friend. He always left a single piece behind, untouched. He knew Dean would never be there to eat that final slice, but like Sam, he held an insane hope. It was completely unjustified and absurd, he knew that. But no one ever claimed hope was rational. Nor did anyone say that about love.

With Dean gone and his belly continuously filled with sugary confections, Cas allowed himself to accept that he had loved the elder Winchester. It had been slowly growing inside him since he had pulled Dean from perdition those many years ago, but it burned inside him now like a wildfire. Small signs of it had littered their time together, evidence to Cas of his feelings for the hunter. But he had chosen to ignore them all, reminding himself that Dean would never return his interest. 

Cas felt his cheek turn up just a tiny bit as he remembered the day he had first realized his feelings for Dean. He couldn’t remember what the two had been arguing about, but as Cas had watched Dean and Sam toss banter back and forth, he had felt a warmth spread through his chest. The laughter and passion he saw in Dean’s eyes that day had solidified how beautiful the hunter was to him, and from that moment forward, Cas had been officially lost. 

Cas looked up from the table, glancing around at nothing in particular, trying to pull himself out of his memories. As pleasant as they were, he wanted to save them from the tainted sadness he felt currently. He looked out of the window beside him in an effort to see what time of day it was, when it caught him. He stood up so quickly that his chair fell backward, scaring several other customers and staff, but Cas was too busy heading to the nearby window to give a damn. 

Separated by a mere pane of glass, he stood to stare at a car he would recognize anywhere: _Baby_. There she sat in all her beauty, pristine as the last time he had gazed upon her. Cas was not even concerned that it could be a look-alike - Baby possessed unique energy about her that Cas could not describe. He theorized that it came from all the years of love Dean, like his father before him, had given to her. Cas just stood there, ignoring everything around him, wondering where she had been these past weeks. Baby had disappeared the same night that Dean’s body had. 

“If Baby is here...” He had not finished muttering to himself before his eyes locked onto her driver, who was currently placing a to-go order at the counter. _Dean_. But it could not be. Cas knew that Sam would not make a mistake like thinking his brother was dead when he really was not. 

But of course, Sam had been correct, even if only partially. Cas took in the sight of Dean Winchester in all his glory, or damnation as it were. There was no mistaking the tendrils of darkness that Cas saw flowing through Dean’s body, the curled blood-red horns that now sprouted from his head. While Cas would know that soul anywhere in heaven, hell, or earth, he felt a wave of sorrow at the sight of Dean, his heart aching as he heard laughter from Dean as the demon before him took an order from the cashier. The last time he had witnessed Dean’s soul this blackened, Dean had been in the pit torturing others.

And this time, Dean looked like he was enjoying himself.

~~~

Sam sighed as he perused the bunker’s refrigerator. One irritating side effect of his constant drinking, besides the daily hangovers, of course, was the reality that had begun to set in. What scraps were left had long since gone rancid. Slamming the door, Sam began to accept that today might be the day that he finally left the bunker. 

He leaned against the counter, letting his new life wash over him fully for the first time since his brother passed. He pulled the phone from his pocket, reading the date on the display. Forty-three. That was the number of days his brother had been dead. Forty-three days that Sam had been alone in this world. Dean should have been long buried by now. He would have been, had Sam been strong enough to stay sober and find his body. 

Anger boiled within Sam’s gut, both at the situation and himself. He squeezed the phone in his hand, his grief growing to a breaking point. He hurled the phone at the nearest wall, shattering it into about forty or fifty pieces. It rained down onto the tile of the kitchen - and onto Cas’s shoulder. Sam hadn’t realized that the angel had returned. Strangely enough, Cas didn’t seem to notice the electronic fragments clinging to his overcoat, nor Sam’s outburst for that matter. He just sank into a chair at the table, looking more exhausted than Sam had ever seen him. 

“Cas. I didn’t know you were headed back,” Sam sat across the table from Cas, his concern for the angel a momentary distraction from his own pain. The look of pure anguish on Cas’s face shook Sam to his core. “Is something wrong?” Sam barely contained the hysterical laughter that threatened to consume him. Everything was wrong. The better question was whether anything would ever be right. 

Cas looked up from the table, as if he were just now noticing that Sam was in the room with him. There was a pain in his eyes, which Sam understood only too well. If anyone had been as close to Dean as he was, it would have been Cas. But what concerned Sam was the fear he saw there, too. It almost felt as if the angel was afraid to tell him something. He couldn’t imagine how things could get any worse than they already were. 

“Sam.” The gravelly voice he knew so well was thick and labored. Yep, Sam knew he was about to find out just how much worse life could get. “I saw the impala yesterday.” 

Sam let out a half-hearted chuckle to mask his pain. “Not one to soften the blow, are ya, Cas,” Sam waved his hand dismissively as Cas attempted a response. Squaring his shoulders, he proceeded, “Did you find the demon joy-riding around in her?” 

It was an assumption, of course, but Sam believed it was a smart one. Based on the fact that only Crowley would have thought to steal both Dean’s body and his Baby, Sam wagered that he was right on the money. 

Boy, life just kept on kicking however, as Cas sighed and continued, “Yes, I did.” When he didn’t immediately continue coming forth with the details, Sam found himself growing anxious. He stood and made his way to retrieve the only consumable left in the fridge: beer. 

After popping the cap and swallowing a swig, Sam began to realize Cas wasn’t going to continue on his own. “Cas?” The angel met his gaze. “It was one of Crowley’s guys, right?” 

“No, Sam.” Cas’s stare seemed to plead with Sam, begging him to understand what he was not saying. 

Sam’s arm froze as he went to take another swig. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

Cas gave him a soulful look, agony in his eyes. “It was Dean.” 

Sam nearly dropped the bottle for the rage that filled his chest. “Crowley has one of his cronies using my brother’s body… _as its meatsuit?!_ ” He didn’t wait for Cas to respond before he began to head toward the garage. 

“Sam, wait-” Cas called after him, his voice still weak as before. 

Sam spun on his heel, his rage boiling over toward his only remaining friend. “What I want to know is why you even came back here. We could have met up, wherever you were. We could have rid that demon from my brother’s body by now. I’d have my brother’s body back right now if you had just called me the moment you found the bastard!” Sam took a step towards Cas, finally releasing all the pain and sorrow he had kept locked inside over the past forty-three days. 

Cas stood, holding up his hands in surrender, approaching Sam the way one would a frightened animal. “It was not _a demon_ in his body,” Sam opened his lips to speak, but Cas pressed forward. “It was _Dean_. He was the demon, Sam.” Cas paused, allowing Sam time to process the information. 

“But… he can’t…” Sam’s legs trembled below him, and Cas moved toward him, realizing where this was headed. He grabbed Sam around the shoulders, just a moment before his legs gave way beneath him. They stumbled, the forgotten bottle shattering on the hardwood floor, and Cas lowered Sam back into the chair he had left moments before. Cas sat back down at the table, resting his head in his hands. 

“How, Cas?” Sam’s voice was weak, trembling with an uncertainty that Sam rarely exhibited. His hand shook heavily as he ran it through his hair, a nervous habit that did little to pacify his fears. Cas sighed, both their pain and his dying grace really beginning to take their toll on his will to continue. Nevertheless, by the looks of Sam, Cas knew that he needed to be the strong one through this. Sam honestly looked worse than Cas had ever seen him, even having witnessed the aftermath of the trials. Cas pressed on, however, knowing Sam would not let it go until he had every detail, no matter how bad it would be for the both of them. 

“Honestly, Sam, I’m not completely sure. The best guess I have is that the Mark is to blame for this. There were rumors that Cain made a deal with Lucifer, but that may not have been a complete truth.” Cas paused, allowing the thoughts he had been harboring to process themselves in a clear manner. If he did not concentrate, he found his grief would take him down into spirals of despair. “I have begun to believe that The Mark cannot be killed, thus when the host dies, The Mark protects the vessel by creating a new demon to reside within it.” 

“A new demon?” Sam’s eyes jumped to Cas, a sudden clarity in them that Cas found unnerving. “So it’s not my brother in there?” Cas could have wept at the blind hope he saw in Sam’s eyes. It almost broke his resolve to have to be the one to take that hope away. 

“A demon is made through the tainting of a human soul. The Mark seems to taint the soul of its vessel in order to preserve itself. The demon is your brother.” 

Sam stood, quickly pacing the length of the table. The hope in his eyes had transformed itself into something much more dangerous, something more unhinged. “But that’s all just a guess, right? It might not be -” 

“Sam!” Cas cut Sam off before he could ride the crazy train any further. His tone must have done the trick; Sam sat back down, though his eyes still troubled the angel. “Of all the souls I have encountered during my time here on Earth, I would know both of the Winchester brothers anywhere.” They were his only true friends, upon the Earth or otherwise. “The soul I looked upon may have been tainted and charred black by The Mark, but it was definitely Dean.” Cas tried to convey his sympathy and sorrow to Sam. He knew this would be a devastating revelation for Sam to process, as he too felt the same grief. 

Sam placed his head in his hands, wishing he could just ignore the angel’s report and just make it all disappear. He was trying his hardest not to lose it completely, and he wasn’t sure how much more of his resolve he had left. He sighed, running his hands through the long hair that Dean would be threatening to cut, if he were still the same Dean Sam had grown up with. 

His _brother_ . A _demon_. 

“Well, Cas,” Sam took a deep breath to steady his voice and calm his nerves. He had to hold strong for what was about to come. “You know what this all means, don’t you?” Cas raised an eyebrow but did not speak. He seemed to be frozen by Sam’s sudden resolve. Sam’s voice turned low and deadly with a certainty he did not feel. 

“It’s time we hit the road for a hunt.”


	2. Footloose and Soul-Free

Sam let the engine idle as he sat alone in the car, staring at the dive bar ahead of him. The sign proclaimed the seedy establishment to be The Blue Bird, “Home of the World’s Best Curly Fries”. Sam seriously doubted that. This place was even a bit low for their standards, but it was where his brother’s trail had gone dead. Sam hadn’t wasted any time leaving the bunker after Cas had given him the rest of the details. 

Sam sighed in a mix of frustration and weariness, wondering just what had brought them both here. How could it have come to this? He was hunting his brother, for God’s sake. He just couldn’t wrap his head around the feeling. It had always been the two of them against the world. Now it felt like the world had taken his brother and left him to drown.

With a heavy heart, Sam killed the engine. There was no point in prolonging the torture ahead. As he approached the bar’s entrance, he caught the sounds of a mediocre band and someone doing horrible vocals. His eyes read a sign on the door as he pulled the handle, “Wednesday - KARAOKE NIGHT” written in sloppy handwriting on it. And wouldn’t you know it, just Sammy’s luck - it just had to be Wednesday.

Sam didn’t wait to be seated, but instead strode past the hostess station with determination - that is until he spotted his target at the bar ahead. _Dean._ His brother was laughing over a beer while perched on a barstool next to none other than Crowley himself. Sam ducked into a well shaded booth as his resolve took a harsh blow. Sam had expected to find Dean here, but he hadn’t expected to find _his brother_. 

A waitress came to take his order, which he kept simple with just a glass of water and a house salad. His tone was short and clipped with her, but that was to be expected, given the circumstances. She surveyed him as if he had three heads before sauntering off toward the kitchen, returning quickly with his order and a frown. 

Sam couldn’t believe his eyes as he watched the demon next to Crowley. Dean looked more alive and at ease than Sam could remember since they were kids. Even then, Sam could still remember Dean being too old for his skin, always on guard to protect his younger brother. But that all had been stripped away, and Dean didn’t seem to be carrying that constant weight on his shoulders anymore. If Sam hadn’t known better, he would swear his brother had an identical twin. It was just downright unnerving to watch him laughing it up with the King of Hell.

The guy on the karaoke stage was butchering some Kenny Chesney hit, which seemed to leave Dean no choice but to heckle him into oblivion. But even Sam had to admit that, demon or not, there was no malice in Dean’s actions. He was just a guy in a bar, having the time of his life. Dean simply looked, for lack of a better term, free. 

The man hung his head as he left the stage, which Sam realized held the band he had heard earlier, playing backup for the poor souls who tried to perform for the drunks in the crowd. Sam had been so wrapped up in Dean that he hadn’t even noticed the band when he first arrived. He shook his head, trying his damnedest to get it back in the game.

What appeared to be one of the bar’s waitresses, maybe the one who served him but he couldn’t remember, took the stage next, a mischievous grin playing wildly on her young face. “I’m calling you out, Dean!” She laughed into the mic, causing Sam to choke on the water he had been sipping. “For the last week all we’ve heard from you is heckles. It’s about time you get up here and show us what you got!” She stood on the stage, tapping her toe in a mockery of a clock, waiting for his brother to approach. She’d be waiting a long ass time, if Sam knew his brother.

“Like hell he’ll ever…” The words froze as he caught sight of Dean approaching the stage. In all their years working on the family business, Dean had professed a deep-seated hatred of karaoke. He had always claimed that it was where washed up rock wannabes went to die without dignity. While Sam believed that was well, he knew it was only a half-truth for Dean. While Dean could sing along to the radio with the best of them, Sam knew Dean secretly possessed quite a substantial amount of stage fright. 

Yet there went his brother, no look of dread in his eyes, instead an old playful shimmer that Sam had long thought dead. Dean whispered something to the band before approaching the mic, a deadly prowl in his hips as he walked. He shot a lecherous grin to the waitress as she took his spot on the bar stool. Dean closed his eyes for a moment and looked to be steadying himself. Sam realized his breath was shallow as he waited to see what the demon would do.

Dean’s voice slid smoothly through the air as he began acapella in his rendition of Styx’s _Renegade_ . Sam’s jaw went slack as he listened to his brother sing, not believing what he was hearing. He knew his brother liked to sing along with the radio, and in the shower at 3 am (much to Sam’s disdain), but he never knew that Dean was _good_. He belted the lyrics with abandon, perfectly reaching even the highest of notes. He showed no hint of insecurity as he performed. 

And that was the moment when Sam began to wonder whether his brother would be better off remaining in his new state of existence. He just seemed so free and happy, more so than Sam could ever remember. It hurt Sam to think he would end the happiness Dean had found, as well as to know it had taken becoming a demon for Dean to finally be happy.

But as quickly as the thought came to him, he dismissed it. He knew his brother. His _true_ brother. Dean wasn’t meant to be a demon. He was a hunter, deep down to the core of his soul. He wouldn’t want to ever be left in this state; no matter the cost it would present to remove him from it. Sam knew Dean would approve of his plan, if the tables had been turned around. His gut pushed him out of the chair he sat in, leaving him to abandon his untouched and wilted salad. 

He wound his way through the tables to stand by the stool Dean had occupied. Rude and abrupt, he chased away the waitress, who shot him a nasty glare as she retreated to the kitchen. Yes, she was definitely the one who he had encountered before. Under any other circumstances, he would feel ashamed of his mistreatment of her. But he didn’t have time to waste on a simple woman’s feelings right now. He was all business as he turned to Crowley, who seemed just now to be aware of his presence. 

“Moose.” He wore a bored look of amusement as he addressed the younger Winchester. “What brings you to this less-than-fine establishment?” His tone was perfectly cordial, but his eyes told Sam that he was poised to call his goons at the first sign of trouble.

“You know why,” Sam had to control everything inside of himself to keep from punching the King of Hell right in the jaw, knocking the attitude right off his face. “I’ve come for my brother.”

“Does it look to you,” Crowley tilted his chin in a way of acknowledging the sight before them, “like Dean _wants_ to leave?” 

Sam’s gaze drifted back to the stage as the music ended, meeting his brother’s face for the first time in just under a month. His stomach dropped as brown eyes met endless black.

~~~

Dean felt his heart race as he took a breath, just before he began his song. He couldn’t believe he was about to do this. But as the words began to leave his lips, he couldn’t contain the grin that came with them. He let the music consume him, taking him far from the dank little bar he was in. 

He still couldn’t wrap his head around the new state of himself. He would have never had the guts to do this sort of thing before. Then again, he wasn’t the same man he was just a month and a half ago. No, that Dean had been human. Not a black-eyed monster of the night: _A Knight of Hell_.

He still wasn’t sure what to make of it all. He kept waiting for it to all go downhill, but he had begun to believe that he might have missed a bullet this time. He still felt like himself, where it mattered most. Sure, he had been freed by the transformation; he would admit that in an instant. The weight he had borne since he carried Sammy from the burning house all those years before had been lifted off his shoulders. For the first time in his life, he felt like he wasn’t on the edge of suffocating. 

He of course still missed all those that had been lost since the beginning. But their loss had become a manageable ache, rather than a throbbing that never ceased to have him on the verge of sinking to his knees. 

Ash, Ellen, and Jo. 

Rufus. Bobby. 

Kevin and Mrs. Tran. 

His dad and his mom. 

But most of all, he missed Sam and Cas. Even though they were still alive as far as he knew, they might as well be worlds away. It wasn’t as if he could go back now. What would he even be able to say once he waltzed back into the bunker, back from the dead and soul blacker than soot? Somehow, he found Crowley and the dive bar scene much easier to handle. Sure, the food sucked and the music was both kinds, Country and Western, but at least the women hadn’t been half-bad. But they never quite filled the hole his two best mates had left. Dean knew Sam would never be able to understand this new state that he was in. It just wasn’t worth the heartache.

Dean pushed down his longing for his brother, focusing on the lyrics of his song. As the final notes played, his eyes searched the crowd, pleased as he noted the generally pleasant consensus he saw there. However, he found himself floored when his eyes passed from Crowley onto brooding shoulders he would recognize anywhere.

Sammy had found him. How he had missed that Moose of a man in here, he would never be able to say. Sam turned towards him at that moment and Dean felt his eyes shift to black. His breath caught in his throat as he forced his eyes back to their natural green. While many in the bar knew what he was, he continued to play it safe, a lifetime of hunting being hard to break. He knew he should head off the stage and confront the spiritual demons in the room, but for the first time since the night he had died, he actually felt fear. He had avoided this confrontation for as long as he could, and now that his brother had tracked him down, he wasn’t ready to face him.

In a moment of profound cowardice, Dean retreated to the back of the stage to speak with the band. After informing them of his next song choice, he returned to the mic, squaring his shoulders. He passed a soulful stare to his brother, willing him to understand. He looked away and spoke into the mic, addressing the rest of the bar. 

“If no one has any objections, I’d like to sing one more.” While he hadn’t been looking for their approval, he found a healthy amount of enthusiasm sent his way, even hearing a catcall from the kitchen. He looked back to Sam again, just as the music began to play. “This one goes out to my little brother.”

He closed his eyes then and let the music take him away.

~~~

Sam sat frozen on the stool Dean had left cold, not knowing whether an unseen force or his own shock held him there. When Dean spoke, Sam’s stomach twisted in a strange mix of happiness and apprehension. He couldn’t help but feel overjoyed seeing his brother alive before him. He had to repeatedly remind himself that it really wasn’t his brother up there. It couldn’t be.

It was a demon. 

As the second song’s notes began to work their way through the air between them, Sam studied the demon on the stage that looked like a distant memory. Not only was the song not of Dean’s usual “Greatest Hits of Mullet Rock”, Sam was decently certain that it was still playing on current hits lists. Sam didn’t know the name or the lyrics, but he was sure he had flicked past the tune a time or two when Dean had actually relinquished the radio dial. 

_When I was a child, I heard voices…_

As the words traveled to him from his brother’s lips, he gained the understanding that Dean was attempting to send him a message. This specific song seemed to be an ode to their current situation - or more appropriately, Dean’s. 

_Don’t you ever tame your demons. But always keep ‘em on a leash._

He got the message Dean was projecting his way. Dean would not be saved by using any sort of cure. He wanted to stay the way The Mark had made him. The problem that lay before Sam was a killer:

Could he live knowing what his brother had become?

~~~

Dean prayed silently as he sang, willing his brother to understand. He would not be subjected to the cure. He was still himself where it counted, just a free man after a lifetime of self-loathing. Not only was his demon existence a cure for that affliction, Dean had made a startling discovery during his first week of new life: The Mark had become a non-issue. He felt no hint of the perpetual bloodlust he had come to loathe since taking it onto his arm. 

His first few days as a demon had been relatively quiet, but eventually an old follower of Abbadon’s had come for Crowley. As per the usual for the King, Dean had been left to do his dirty work. Fearing the worst, he had taken down the demon with more ease than he cared to admit. That was when he had found his complete acceptance of his new state. Without the lust of The Mark, he ironically felt more human than he had in a long time. 

He knew that a single song would never be able to convey everything that he wanted to say to his brother, but he vowed he would make amends the moment the final words left his lips.

_When I was a man, I thought it ended…_

As the final verse began to pull itself from his lungs, Dean felt his stomach contort in both fear and anger. Sam somehow had disappeared from the crowd without his notice. The King of Hell was also nowhere to be found, he discovered. He internally cursed himself for losing himself so deeply to his internal musings. He scanned the room, willing the song to end as quickly as possible. The fear in his gut stemmed from a concern for his brother; the anger knowing that he was most likely somewhere with Crowley. 

The final notes of the band were still reverberating through the amps as his boots hit the sticky cement. He quickly approach Cyndi at the bar, who flashed him a seductive smile. If only he had the time to use those lips the way he had several times over the past week. He cut her off before she could make him an offer he couldn’t refuse.

“No time tonight, Cherry Pie,” he said gruffly. He had nicknamed the waitress that on their first night here after catching her hips bouncing through the tables to the tune. She hadn’t seemed to mind. In fact, she had decided to show him just what it meant to taste so good he could cry from it.  
“Where did Crowley run off to?”

~~~

It couldn’t have been more than three minutes since Crowley had pulled Sam into the alley, but boy had he made good use of his time tonight. Sam’s jaw was aching something fierce from a solid right hook he hadn’t known Crowley to possess. Gone was the usual banter the King of Hell loved to dish, instead replaced with an almost crazed need to bust Sam into bruised and bloody pieces. Crowley made quick work of Sam’s body, but he didn’t miss a chance to deliver a few psychological blows while he was at it.

“Did you think you could come here, into _my_ territory,” he kneed Sam in the gut to accent his possession of the bar, “and just take Dean away with you?” For the first time in years, Sam felt legitimate fear in the face of Crowley. The demon seemed to seethe with anger, an unhinged quality flashing in his eyes. His sudden fear was likely due to the sudden remembrance that Crowley was _not_ their ally. He was the King, first and foremost. He had been so frequently of use lately that the threat had nearly disappeared. But Sam had no problem seeing it now. Two of Crowley’s goons stood nearby, aiding Crowley by holding Sam immobile in the air. 

“Dean doesn’t care about his little whelp of a brother anymore. Why do you think he came so freely when I called?” Sam winced, at both the blow Crowley dealt to his stomach and the harsh reality he had yet to face. Crowley’s words were echoes of the ones his fears that taunted his mind whenever he had dared stay sober. “Dean’s shaken himself from your pathetic grip on him. He’s living it up here in ways he never could when he had to keep his eyes on you.” Crowley hooked him hard across the jaw, grabbing Sam’s long locks in a single move that trapped his gaze on Crowley’s face. He struggled to breathe around the blood that was pooling around his tongue. Crowley lifted his arm to strike him again, but paused to send more verbal assaults into Sam’s face, his breath so close Sam could smell the liquor on it. “Squirrel has finally discovered his true nature. He’s no longer your brother; he’s _mine_.”

Sam felt Crowley’s shoulder shift to strike, but a familiar clearing of a throat gave him pause. As Crowley glanced over his shoulder to the newcomer, Sam’s heart leapt with an unfathomable hope, believing his brother was finally coming to save him from the demented agony Crowley was making his personal vendetta to dish upon him. However, as Crowley stepped back to reveal his handiwork to Dean, Sam’s stomach sank, his heart faltering. Dean’s eyes were cold and menacing. He felt the weight of it come crashing down on him, and he sank down into the psychic grip the nameless demons held on him. There was no doubt in his soul that Crowley’s words were spot on.

“What do we have here?” Dean’s voice was a tone Sam didn’t recognize, a cold and disconnected emptiness that shook him to his core. The karaoke had filled him with a hope he hadn’t admitted he held, but that was gone now, burned away by the body standing before him. He resigned himself to the fact that he was about to die. His brother was not standing before him. There was only a demon set to kill.

“I was just regaling our dear Moose here with some stories of your new adventures these past weeks. Explaining your true nature.” Crowley punctuated the word with another blow to Sam’s torso, breaking several ribs in the process. Sam struggled to pull in oxygen, as he begged with his eyes Dean to come to his rescue. But Dean made no move to stop Crowley’s abuse, staring lazily at the scene before him. “Care to give him a demonstration?” Crowley’s evil grin was met with a flash of black eyes and a devilish smirk from Dean. Sam knew he only had moments left on this earth.

“Sure thing, Boris.” With a simple flick of his wrist, Dean sent the two goons smoking out of their meatsuits into the air around them. Another sent them pooling into the ground, leaving a scorch mark where they hit. With the loss of their grip on his body, Sam tensed himself as best he could for the incoming impact on the pavement, but it never came. Instead, he felt as if a hand was slowly lowering him down and backwards against the building. The eyes he met in his brother’s skull were still black as coal, but he swore they begged for his trust in that moment. Sam pressed himself against the wall as Crowley spun to face Dean full on with a violent hiss.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He stepped closer to Dean in a menacing gesture, but Dean appeared unstirred by the aggressive tone. He even seemed to be just a bit amused by the turn of events.

“Let me make one thing perfectly clear to you,” Dean slowly, methodically walked a perimeter around Crowley, who was quickly looking more uneasy by the second. If Sam didn’t know better, he would think Dean was pushing Crowley farther away from him. “You do not want to make me angry.” Sam would have laughed at Dean’s inappropriate pop culture reference if the situation had been any less dire on his end.

“Watch your tone with me, boy.” Crowley’s eyes thinned in anger at Dean’s arrogance, but Dean stayed calm beneath the glare of the demon before them. “You are a demon. I am the King of Hell. You forget who owns you.” 

“And you forget what makes me who I am.” Dean’s voice turned deadly and Sam watched as the First Blade seemed to materialize within his brother’s grasp. “I may be a demon. A Knight of Hell, to be precise. I would have to be dead not to notice certain upgrades I seem to have been gifted with.” Dean flexed his neck and shoulders, as if he were loosening himself up for a good old-fashioned schoolyard brawl. 

Sam was sure now of one thing, however; Dean’s pacing was slowly moving Crowley as far away from the battered Winchester as possible. He began to cling to a renewed sense of hope that he hadn’t been mistaken in the bar, that his brother was still in there. With his next words, Sam was given his answer.

“But above all, you have neglected one little, yet highly important, fact about my _true nature_ , as you put it. I am a _Winchester_ . First and foremost. And one truth will always and forever rule my soul, no matter how tainted or charred it becomes.” His free hand flying out in front of him, Dean slung a telekinetic blast at Crowley, nearly knocking the elder demon off his feet. “ _No one_ fucks with my family.” 

Crowley’s eyes flashed red in warning. His voice shook with undeniable power. “Knight or not, boy, I made you and I can end you!” Dean chuckled at the threat they both knew held no value at this point. He brought up the arm that held the Blade in a quick motion, while Sam watched his brother in awe. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing with his own eyes. Dean seemed so in control of himself that it left Sam dumbfounded. Crowley’s body flew through the air, hitting the brick building hard enough to crack the wall behind him. Dean kept him suspended in the air, several feet from the ground.

When Dean’s next words left his lips, no amusement was left to be found. “You best remember who I am, you pathetic little vermin. I only followed you because I was worried about the people I love.” Dean spared a glance back to his brother, who saw concern wrinkling the skin around his black eyes. “I may be a demon now. There’s no evading that. But I am not one of your playthings. I am what you fear most.” Dean slowly approached Crowley’s hanging form as he spoke, bringing the Blade up to his throat. Sam swore there was true fear in Crowley’s eyes now. “And most importantly of all: You are no king of mine.” He flung Crowley away with an almost disinterested stare. “Go find yourself a new whore for the night.” Crowley looked up from the ground where he landed, his eyes burning with unspent rage. But Dean ignored it all with a cool smirk. “I’m sure there are still a few left that haven’t crossed that Daddy complex driven regret of their bucket list.”  
With that Dean turned away to face Sam as Crowley slowly picked himself up off the pavement. “This isn’t over, Dean,” Crowley threatened, though he seemed to be retreating back into the bar from where Sam was sitting. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” Dean’s eyes never left his brother’s face as he threw one last insult at the demon’s back. He portrayed a perfect picture of boredom, which Sam knew would only anger the King more. Sam knew it was all a facade, however, sensing the tension that boiled just below the surface of his brother’s skin. He was poised and ready to strike at a moment’s notice. 

The elder brother bent down to survey the younger, concern again playing on his features as he took in just how much damage Crowley had dealt. As his eyes clicked back into their natural green, Sam’s mind just seemed to be unable to take it. His brother seemed to be exactly as he had last seen him, protective and strong. His body seemed to shut down in that moment, completely devoid of the energy needed to keep his eyes open any longer. 

He was pretty sure he heard Dean say his name before total darkness overtook him.

~~~

“Sammy.” The name left Dean’s lips like a prayer as he saw his brother’s body slump into unconsciousness. He sighed as he began checking his brother over. Crowley really had done a number on him. A busted upper lip, broken ribs, a probable concussion. Maybe more. He stood and lifted Sam’s body over his shoulder. He grunted under the weight, letting out a weak chuckle. Even as a demon, his brother really was a Moose.

He headed toward the lot where he had left Baby parked, whispering to a brother who couldn’t hear him, “Let’s go home.”


	3. Charred Grilled Big Brother

Sam slowly began to take in his surroundings, the haze of unconsciousness taking far too long to dissipate from his mind. The smell of ArmorAll filled his nostrils, while the sound of Zeppelin’s melodious tones filled his ears. He instinctively felt a wave of security wash over him. He was safe, back in the one place he had called home throughout most of his life: the Impala. 

But reality kicked back in so swiftly that he struggled to breathe from the weight of it. It seemed so surreal; he was back in the impala, with  _ Dean.  _ His brother, the demon. The Knight of Hell. He snuck a quick glance through barely open eyelids. Dean seemed as relaxed as ever, cool and collected behind the wheel of his Baby. His fingers tapped lightly to the beat on the steering wheel, while he hummed gently along to the tune. 

Sam stole a second to look out at the road, quickly realizing that he had no idea where they were currently, a realization that caused Sam to feel a wave of panic settle in on his chest. Luckily, it was still quite dark, maybe an hour or two before dawn, so Sam chanced it, betting on the fact that Dean probably had not seen him wake in the darkness of the cabin. 

So, in a moment of profound cowardice that he did not acknowledge, Sam shut his eyes and tried to keep his breathing as even as possible.

“Sammy,” Sam froze, his breath halted as he realized he had been caught. Dean’s voice was soft in the darkness, not at all threatening like he wished it would be. At least then Sam would be able to remember that the monster next to him was no longer his brother. 

“I’m so sorry, little brother,” Sam let his breath out slowly, relief washing over him. Dean wasn’t calling him out on being awake. He thought Sam was still asleep. Sam let him think that, biding his time. His brother tended to do this anytime they got into it bad, talking to Sam while he slept. Sam knew he found it easier if he thought Sam was asleep. Most times that it had happened over the years, Sam didn’t call Dean on it. Trying to get Dean to talk about his feelings was hard enough. He’d take what he could get. 

“I never wanted any of this.” Dean sounded so sorrowful that Sam’s resolve nearly faltered, but he held strong. Sam’s heart twisted in his chest, however. He wanted to trust his brother. He wanted nothing more than to sit back with a beer in his hand, Dean by his side, and figure out how to get through this. More than anything, he wanted his brother back. But the sane part of his mind wouldn’t let Sam forget that Dean was a demon, a monster. The enemy. No matter how much he sounded like the old Dean, how much his heart wanted for him to just accept him like this, he had to stay strong. Dean would want him to, he just knew it. 

“How did we end up here, Sammy?” Dean’s voice turned thoughtful, a certain air of wistfulness coloring his tone. His sadness seemed to dissipate mildly as he continued. “If you’d have told me two months ago that I’d be a black-eyed son of a bitch...” Dean chuckled as he paused, seemingly trying to imagine a conversation that never was, “I’d have probably either thrown a punch or a beer your way. But I wouldn’t have believed it for a second.” Dean’s voice drifted in the cabin, turning softer as he continued. “But look at us now. Look at us…” Dean trailed off, causing Sam to wonder if he was done confiding in him. But when Dean began speaking again, Sam couldn’t squash the flinch he gave at the sudden ferocity in his brother’s voice. 

“I gotta be honest with you, Sammy. Even though we didn’t plan this, I’m not going back.” Sam felt his resolve breaking with every second that passed. He knew he would falter at any moment, but he desperately tried to hold on to his silence. “There will be no ‘fixing’ me this time.” There was a certainty in Dean’s voice that boggled Sam’s comprehension. There was nothing to fix? Sam wouldn’t believe that. He couldn’t. 

Sam’s eyes flew open in surprise at the words his brother had said so flippantly. “What do you mean “There’s nothing to fix!?’” Sam grimaced as the words flew from his lips, giving away his waking state. He had officially screwed himself out of the silent vantage point he had held.

Dean’s eyes left the road as he smacked Sam across the shoulder. “I knew you were faking it!” Dean shot a wicked smirk towards his little brother, who wasn’t quite able to return the gesture. He was still completely unsure what sort of situation they were in. “Bitch.” Dean offered up the insult that he had tossed Sam’s way since they were both old enough to cuss.

Sam wanted to keep strong, hold the fort as it were, but he couldn’t help himself. “Jerk.” It hadn’t been his quickest retort over the years, and if he didn’t know better, he had begun to see an ounce of fear in Dean’s eyes that said he was afraid Sam wouldn’t return it. But as soon as the word left Sam’s lips, Dean beamed like a little kid behind the wheel. His focus went back to the road and the two sat in an almost comfortable silence. _Almost_.

Sam wished he didn’t have to press on, but he knew he had no other choice. “What do you mean, Dean?” He didn’t want to have to push the issue. If he could, he would just let it go completely and just be glad to have his brother back. No matter the pain it might cause him to have to subject him to the cure. He just wanted them back to the way they should be. 

“Sammy,” Dean began with a sigh, keeping his eyes pointedly on the road, “I’m not taking the cure.” Sam nearly gasped at Dean’s statement, it having hit so close to what he was already internally fighting with. Dean must have felt the surprise in his little brother, since he continued, “That’s the plan, isn’t it? I know it would be if we were in opposite places right now.” Sam conceded that Dean was pretty on point with his assumption. Dean took a deep breath and pushed on, giving Sam the impression that he wouldn’t like what Dean said next. “I’m better this way, Sammy. Crazy, I know, but I am.”

Sam waited for Dean to continue, but when he didn’t, Sam took it upon himself to keep the conversation moving. He was surprised at the softness of his own voice, feeling like he sounded afraid that Dean had lost it finally. “But you’re a demon, Dean.” It was such a useless statement to make, but he really didn’t know what else to say.

Dean scoffed at the absurdity of the situation. “Actually, Knight of Hell to be exact.” He knew it was a bit cruel, but he flashed black eyes towards his brother to punctuate his sentiment. Sam flinched at the sight and Dean instantly regretted his poor choice of actions. He forced the color back to green, seeing Sam visibly relax as he did so, and he focused back on the road. 

“It’s the Mark.” Dean felt a lump in his throat forming due to the oppressive seriousness he felt around him. He just had to convince Sam that they did not always know best in the world of monsters. Even he knew it sounded crazy as he thought it, having years of hunting telling him otherwise, but these last few weeks had proved it to him. Being a demon was not a simple ‘evil or not’ verdict. “The Mark doesn’t control me anymore, Sammy. It’s like it’s not even there.” He glanced down at his forearm, the red cursed skin still a reminder of what he was and had been through. His eyes returned to the dead road ahead.

It was Sam’s chance to scoff at his brother now. “That’s not possible, Dean.” Sam flinched at the intense look his brother shot his way.

“Possible or not, Sammy, it’s true.” Dean glanced at his brother, seeing a confirmation that Sam was thoroughly unconvinced. “Don’t ask me how, but ever since I died,” Dean decided to just ignore how many times Sam flinched around him from here on out, “The Mark has been dormant. I’ve even taken out some demons. Not even a tingle.” Sam noticed the thinly veiled happiness that his brother tried to hide.

“Dean,” Sam began, and the tone he produced was one similar to the one which would be used when speaking to a small child or a frightened animal, “even if that’s true, you’re still a demon. As in, not human.” Sam didn’t know what exactly to say anymore, but he knew he couldn’t just stay quiet. He had to keep the conversation going. Maybe if he pressed long enough, he would get through to his brother, if he was still in there somewhere.

“Human?” Dean’s voice was loud and sarcastic as he resisted the urge to strangle his little brother. “Of course I’m not human. I’d have to have shit for brains to not notice certain upgrades I’ve been given. But what’s so great about being human anyway, Sammy?” Dean’s harsh laugh cut the air between them as he flicked his eyes to his brother. It took everything inside of him to not begin screaming at his brother, pummeling him until he understood. Sam was internally thankful that they still remained their natural green color. “Let me guess: Is it the crushing pain and guilt when I remember everyone we’ve lost? The inability to sleep more than four hours a night, no matter how much I drink? Is it the hatred I’ve felt when I looked in the mirror? The weight of the world pressing down on my chest, suffocating me until I want to scream from it?” When Sam didn’t respond, Dean shrugged, sounding much more casual than he felt inside. “Naw, Sammy, you can keep that. I’m done with it.” 

Sam felt like he was grasping at straws as he stared at the man beside him. For the first time tonight, Dean’s eyes seemed to hold a bit of the old weight they had before Metatron had killed him. His lips were pressed in a tight line. Sam balked at the declaration his brother had presented to him, however. “So, you’re just giving up? You’re ok with being a soulless, heartless monster?” After all their screw-ups over the years, Sam knew it was a low blow, but he couldn’t help it. He just kept hoping that maybe the next thing he said would be the words Dean needed to hear. But Sam quickly learned he had definitely crossed some invisible line with his last outburst, if Dean’s reaction was any way to tell.

A growl unfurled itself from deep in Dean’s chest as he jerked Baby hard to the right. Sam bounced in his seat as they hit the grass and Dean braked hard. He didn’t look away from the road but gave a low order. “Get out, Sammy.” Sam had barely begun to part his lips in protest when Dean’s head snapped his direction, eyes blacker than coal. “OUT!”

Sam’s hands shook as he scrambled out of the cabin. As his feet hit the dirt below them, he shut the door quickly, not wanting to anger the demon inside any longer. He fully expected Dean to peel out, leaving him behind, so when Dean shut off the engine, a wave of shock washed over him. He looked across the hood to see Dean unfolding himself quickly from the driver’s seat, slamming his door much harder than he knew Dean liked to. 

Dean strode quickly to the passenger side, and without laying a finger on him, Sam felt as if he were frozen on the spot. He didn’t even think it was Dean’s demon powers, just the look of fury he saw in eyes he knew too well, green once again.

“Now you listen to me, you stupid son of a bitch.” Dean’s voice vibrated with anger and something else, though Sam wasn’t sure what. “I’m only gonna say this once. I may be a demon, but I’m not soulless. And I’m not heartless.” Sam opened his lips foolishly to argue, but Dean cut him off. “Shut it, Sam! It’s charbroiled, but it’s still right here.” Dean smacked his chest with his fist to punctuate his point, and then took a long, deep breath to calm his anger. Sam was smart and kept his lips firmly pressed together, but Dean didn’t miss the eye roll he let escape. “Sammy, I get it. I _really_ do. But I need you to let this go.” Dean sighed and stepped back just a bit, allowing Sam some breathing room. When he continued, his tone was much softer, almost pleadingly so, surprising Sam. The anger he could handle, but this? This was the Dean he remembered from their childhood, the one who chased monsters away before Sam knew what really waited for him in the dark.

“I grew up the same as you, Sammy. Hell, I raised you.” Sam suppressed the urge to shiver at how close Dean hit to his own thoughts. “But, Dad, he had it wrong. The world isn’t just black and white. Monster or human. I know that now.” Dean’s eyes pleaded for Sam to believe him, to understand, but Sam felt himself closing off with every second that passed. “Here’s the deal, Sammy: I’ll take you to the bunker, and I’ll leave. You never have to see me again if you don’t want to. I’ll disappear.” Sam felt his eyebrows raise in shock at the offer. Dean wasn’t one to just give up like this. But Dean continued, and he knew where the demon before him would take this. “But if even for a moment you thought I was telling the truth, let me stay. It won’t be easy, I get that. But we’re brothers, Sam. And we’ve been through worse than this.”  
Dean watched as Sam’s face gave nothing away, holding his breath with the anxiety that now pumped through his veins. Sam looked almost thoughtful as he began to speak, but Dean thought it might just be the light of the rising sun mixed with hope he didn’t trust. 

“I have had my brother by my side for as long as I can remember. And given the chance, I’ll always take life with him over losing him.” Sam’s eyes met Dean’s as the elder’s heart leaped, but the hard look in them squashed any hope that remained. “But I see no brother of mine before me.” Sam pushed past Dean, opening the passenger side door then and sliding in. Dean stood frozen on the spot, trying to calm himself. 

He had given Sammy an out, and he couldn’t be angry if he took it. At least, he told himself that as he stood there in the dawn, heart racing, trying to think of how he could convince his brother that he was the same as before. He wanted to pull him back out of Baby and scream until his throat bled. He wanted to hug Sam and let him know that it was ok to be afraid. He wanted to cry. More than anything, he wanted his brother. 

But of course, he wouldn’t do that. He still heard John’s voice sometimes, reminding him that “Men don’t cry.” So he wiped his cheek, brushing away a tear that definitely hadn’t fallen, and made his way back to the only home he had left: The driver’s seat behind Baby’s wheel. 

~~~

They were about half an hour outside the bunker when Sam finally cracked and looked to the driver’s seat. He had held his ground, waiting for the yelling and anger to explode from within the demon behind the wheel. But as the time drug on, Sam had begun to feel the itch to look at Dean’s face. Maybe that would give him some sort of idea about what the elder Winchester was thinking in all of this. He expected to see seething fury on his features, as Dean hadn’t even restarted the radio when they hit the road again, and Sam knew few reasons could create silence in the cabin of the impala.

But when he finally looked over, he felt his heart catch in his throat. The look on Dean’s face was not one of anger. His brother’s features weren’t contorted in frustration or fury. His eyes were turned down, and if Sam wasn’t mistaken, tears were glistening and threatening to fall. Sam wished he could convince himself that it was an act, that the thing beside him really was evil. But as he continued to watch Dean, he felt himself faltering, losing the battle more every second.

~~~

Dean pulled Baby into the driveway of the bunker, he looked out his driver’s side window, pretending to see something interesting as he tried to covertly wipe at his eyes. He repeated to himself that he had given Sammy an out. He couldn’t be mad at his brother for taking it. But it stung to his core and he knew there was nothing he could do to change the younger man’s mind. 

He looked over into the passenger seat, seeing nothing given away on the younger Winchester’s face. “Here you are, Sam. Take care of yourself and watch after Cas, okay?” Dean resisted the urge to ask him to reconsider. 

Sam turned thoughtful. “You know, Dean, Baby really deserves to be in the garage.” Dean tried to not throw up at the thought of leaving her there. How could Sam even suggest a thing like that?  
“Sammy, if think for one second that I’m gonna leave her, you’re-”

“Dean, I didn’t say that. I meant that she should be inside, just like you should be.” Dean couldn’t quite keep up. It was like he was running through a trough of mud up to his chest. He wasn’t going to fall for that heartbreak this easily.

“What the hell are you talking about? You said-”  
“I know what I said.” Sam sighed and looked out the front of the impala. “I meant what I said. I really didn’t see my brother there before me.” Sam looked back at Dean then, and the elder Winchester could see a softness in his eyes that he didn’t expect. “But you were right. Dad blinded us. It’s not easy to separate ‘Demon’ and ‘Evil’ in my mind. But then I saw the look on your face. It was the same you had the day you smashed the impala after dad died.” Sam almost looked like he was trying not to cry, but Dean couldn’t let himself think that. This might all be a cruel trick. Maybe he’d back out at the last second, telling him that he couldn’t bear to see him like this after all. “I’m not saying I want this, Dean. I wish we could go back to before you died. But you asked me to trust you if for even a second I saw my brother in you. And that face, the look in your eyes, that was all Dean. So, as hard as it’ll be, I’m gonna try, Dean. I want my brother beside me, black eyes or green.”

Dean cleared his throat and grunted in response, not trusting himself to not cry if he replied. He just pulled Baby forward into the garage, a smile slowly spreading over his lips. He couldn’t believe it, but he wouldn’t question it either. He would make sure he didn’t give Sammy any reason to back out now. He knew his brother would be skittish for a while, and honestly, he didn’t blame the younger brother for a second.  
This was reaffirmed when he put the car in park. Sam nearly bust down the passenger side door as soon as the engine cut off, jumping out to head inside. Dean stalled, watching as his brother headed inside. He leaned back into the seat for a moment, taking it all in. He wanted to tell Sam what this meant, how scared he had been that he would never set foot back in the place. How worried he had been that Sam and Cas would have been hurt with him there, or later that they would not want him back after leaving them for so long. 

Sam popped his head back into the garage, calling out, “You coming, Dean?”

Dean chuckled, opening the door, which seemed to be enough of an answer for Sam. He jogged to catch his brother, feeling the need to say at least something in the rush of everything around them. But he paused as he saw Sam was beginning to head down the corridor that ran away from the kitchen and war room. 

“Sammy, I was hoping maybe we could have a beer or-” Sam interrupted Dean before he could finish and venture far too deep into chick flick territory, for which Dean was both grateful but also annoyed. He might have to talk to the guy about not interrupting him or he might start feeling a bit punchy. He restrained himself though, knowing that wouldn’t further the “demons aren’t evil” debate right now.

“Dean, I said you should stay, but I need time.” Dean felt himself nod, kicking himself for not expecting that the minute they stepped back into their life here. “I’m going to head to the gun range. But we’ll talk.” Sam seemed to be looking for something on Dean’s face just then and seemed to find him lacking. “I promise, Dean, we will.” He didn’t give the elder Winchester time to respond before heading down the hall. 

Dean headed down the way, feeling both lost and found at that moment. He wasn’t sure how to move forward just yet, feeling like this was all a dream. But he also knew there was never a possibility of a real life anywhere else. This was the only home he could ever know, safe and sound in the bunker’s walls with his brother.


	4. Wisps of Blue and Green

Dean knew how he’d move forward. It was just so simple and yet so perfectly poetic.

He was going to kick his brother’s ass.

Dean had tried to stay calm when he’d found his room destroyed by stale beer and broken bottles. He couldn’t be mad at Sam - it was his fault after all for taking off, right? He had agreed with himself on that in the beginning. But after three straight hours of scrubbing at the walls and carpet and vacuuming up shards of glass and throwing out his ruined stereo, he just couldn’t keep himself from feeling just a tad bit peeved at the situation. From what he remembered, he at least had the common decency to drink himself stupid in the sanctity of his own room when he did so. He never violated Sam’s space like this. Maybe he hadn’t punched the younger one enough when they were younger. Maybe it wasn’t too late to change that.

Dean chuckled to himself, feeling lighter even in his frustration as he headed toward the kitchen. He hoped Sam had at least had the forethought to restock before coming to get him. That’s the least he could ask by being pulled from his new life right?

Cas wandered back toward the bunker, feeling discomfort in his chest. Anxiety wracked his body as he waited to hear from Sam, wishing the younger Winchester would keep him up to date. He had wanted to go with him to the bar, help him secure Dean and bring him home. He trusted Sam entirely, it was Dean that was the wild card in all of this. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he felt something strange when he saw the elder Winchester in the pie shop.

As he stepped back into the bunker, he tried to attribute the strangeness to seeing Dean’s soul so warped beyond recognition, but he knew that wasn’t it. He still saw Dean, the name he once pulled from the depths of hell, still saw the righteous man. But that was what he thought was maybe the issue of it all. He had expected to feel different, to see nothing of the man he knew. But Dean had seemed so much the same that Cas’s skin had seemed to be on fire from just being near him. He wanted to run to his then, but he had known nothing good would have come of it.

Descending the stairs, Cas froze as he heard a voice call out.

“Sammy?”

Cas felt his heart leap and fall both at once, trepidation in his movements and he back his descent again, watching for the elder Winchester to turn the corner. Dean stepped into view, a beer in hand, a questioning look on his face. But Cas watched his soul instead, really taking a moment to process how the elder Winchester’s soul presented itself now.

Dean’s blackened energy whirled within him, twisting and turning in delicate yet sharp spirals. He had the slightest of tails running out from his spine, thin and long enough that it just barely kept from grazing the tiles below his feet. His skull shown below his features, and while it would seem to be off-putting if he tried to describe it, Cas found the features striking and hauntingly beautiful in their own way. He now also wore horns that protruded from behind his ears, twisting and bending back away from his face. They reminded Cas of a gazelle, more simple and delicate than some of the other demons he had seen. The final demon attribute that Dean now possessed was his wings. Few demons possessed them, but Dean’s were especially striking. They flowed wide behind him, long and graceful, his feathers dragging the tiles just a tad while standing up straight. The most peculiar fact about them was not their size, however; it was not uncommon for demons of power to possess quite large attributes, but instead, it was their appearance that still caused Cas to catch his breath. Dean’s wings were quite angelic in nature, large and fluffy feathers being so incredibly similar to those that Cas himself had, as well as his brethren. But instead of the usual colors that angels preferred to present, such as a pure white or perhaps a blue, Dean’s were such a dark pearlescent shade of emerald that they looked black.

Dean paused as he wandered into the war room, looking to find Sam. He had heard his come back into the bunker and planned to give him a piece of his mind. But he froze when he caught sight of the blindly blue light that stood before him. It was one of the most gorgeous and surreal images he had ever laid his eyes on. He focused and saw the vessel below, taking in the sight and processing that, for the first time in their friendship, he was actually seeing Cas’s grace. _His true appearance_. Dean wondered how so much light and fiery energy could be contained within such a slight body, and he cocked his head as he lost himself in swirls of light icy blues and lime greens. He almost didn’t even process that Cas was growing closer, just barely catching himself and bracing as he found himself thrown against the wall behind them.

He looked down, somehow knowing at that moment how to tell his brain to shut off the part that could now see all of the supernatural wonders, and focused on the physical aspects of the moment. He took them in quick succession, trying hard to comprehend what was now happening.

  1. Cas was the one who had thrown him.
  2. Cas had an angel blade pressed firmly into his throat, which caused some quite alarming stirrings in his stomach that he would of course agonize over later.
  3. Cas was speaking and seemed angry, but Dean hadn’t heard a word of it.



“Cas! Stop!” Dean held himself still, not actually worried about the angel blade itself, more so worried about why Cas would respond this way.

“I will ask once more, Dean: Where is Sam?” Cas pressed just a bit harder to emphasize his point, and Dean tried to find his voice, which seemed to be lodged in his throat at the moment.

“I don’t know? His room? I thought that was him when you came in.”  
“So he just let you come home? What about the cure?” Cas held him there, uncertainty and a bit of anger in his tone. Dean tried to keep himself calm, knowing he was to blame for Cas’s current mood. He would feel the same if Cas suddenly looked like a walking puffball of evil. He couldn’t blame Cas for the reaction, but he would have to talk him down if they were going to be able to move forward.

“He agreed to try it my way. I don’t want a cure, Cas. I’m better this way.” Dean tried to speak both through words and with his eyes, pleading for Cas to get it and release him. The angel definitely looked unconvinced, however. 

“And why should I believe you, Dean? Your soul is a twisted mess. You are a demon.” Cas seemed the angriest over his final words there, and Dean could just imagine why. Demons were abominations after all in the eyes of Cas’s brothers, and though Dean thought Cas would be able to see the difference, he worried that he may be wrong there. But he didn’t get a chance to rebuttal before Cas kept going. “Without Sam here to verify, I do not feel convinced that you have not done something to coerce him.”  
Dean felt an urge to hit the angel, and he tried to staunch it down before he reacted poorly and rashly. “You think I would hurt my brother, Cas? Really? After all this time, you think so little of me?” He realized the assumption actually hurt when he thought about it. Cas was one of his best friends in this world, and he was shocked that he couldn't see that he was just the same as ever. He guessed that it might be as expected, but he had hoped for more. He just hadn’t stopped to realize it before that moment.

Cas seemed to struggle with that as they stood there. “Before? I would have never doubted you, Dean. But now, as a demon, I-”

“Demon or not, would I hurt my brother, Cas?” Dean interrupted and he felt his anger spike just a tad, and he couldn’t control his eyes. He felt Cas flinch and took his chance. He shifted his weight, rolling them across the wall, switching their positions so that he now had Cas pressed against the wall, angel blade remaining at his throat. He stared hard into the blue eyes he trusted so much, trying to find his friend there. “I don’t care if I become the damned Easter Bunny, Cas. You can’t honestly believe that I would hurt Sam. You have to know me better than that.” Dean held his ground and waited. He kept himself pressed hard against Cas, his hand still tight on the bottle in his hand, while he noticed for the first time that Cas held his other above his head, now just suspended in the air with no wall to brace it against.

Cas seemed to struggle to find an answer, but finally, something passed behind his eyes that Dean didn’t recognize and he spoke. “You’re right, Dean. You wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.” Dean relaxed as the words came out of his mouth, and he felt his eyes switch back to green as he seemed to blink for the first time in minutes. He stood for a moment, not sure how to proceed past the awkwardness they suddenly were standing in. “Dean, would you mind letting me free from the wall?” Dean jerked back, for the first time realizing just how close their bodies had been. He hadn’t processed just how close their hips had been to one another while they had been on the edge of fighting one another. He stepped away with a small shrug of apology, moving to lean back against the war table, trying not to show how he felt about their contact and the strangeness in his chest he began to feel at the loss of it.

They seemed to freeze for a moment, as Cas lowered the blade out of immediate sight and looked away in embarrassment. The silence began to press in on Dean and he said the first thing that came to mind. “Why did you go straight for my throat anyways? That sure of how evil I am?”

Cas shrugged by way of apology and stated, as if it were obvious, “When you did not respond to me, I became concerned. I am sorry that I just made improper conclusions.” Dean ignored that second half of Cas’s explanation for the moment, though, as his brain tried to decipher the first half. 

“Wait, I didn’t respond? Yes, I did, Cas. As soon as you asked where Sam was. But you already had your blade at my throat by then.” Dean tried to keep his confusion from turning to annoyance, which of course he always found too easy with Cas. He was always the person who seemed to keep him riding a rollercoaster of calming thoughts and possible explosive confusion. He never really understood what it was about Cas that did that to him though. He really probably needed to think about it, but he pushed that away for later.

Cas shook his head, seemingly just as confused as Dean was. “No, I asked you multiple times, Dean. I didn’t reach you until I had repeated myself thrice.” Cas seemed so sure of this that Dean had to pause for a moment and try to replay the minutes prior. But all he could remember was the way Cas had looked coming down the stairs behind them, the way his grace had burned like the sun but also so lightly that Dean worried somewhere in the back of his mind that there was too much of it and somehow also not enough. _His grace._

Dean chuckled uneasily, his stomach knotting as he realized what had happened. He embarrassedly admitted, “I may have been a bit distracted.” Cas seemed to not understand what he was trying to convey, so Dean continued, even though his life’s experience told him to shut up or change the subject. “I was sorta blinded by your grace. You’re the first angel I’ve seen since dying, Cas.” 

Cas’s eyes lit up and Dean felt shocked as he listened to the sound of Cas laughing. It was the lightest laugh, completely airy and light, and unlike anything he had ever heard the angel make. Cas calmed himself quickly, though the act didn’t seem too easy for him. “I am sorry, Dean. I believe your reaction was a completely appropriate one.” Cas still chuckled, and Dean couldn’t help but smile in response, the tension effectively broken between them. 

“Then why are you laughing?”

“Because I froze as well when I first saw your new visage. It seems that we both have thrown each other off.” Dean’s grin grew wider, comforted by the knowledge that even Cas could be thrown by him. He wasn’t sure why, but he found himself feeling almost prideful about it. Then it struck him and he frowned.

“Wait, you didn’t freeze though. You pulled your blade, Cas.” Dean tried to think when Cas could mean, but he was coming up empty-handed.

It was Cas’s turned to look mildly embarrassed by his admission, a smile grimace shrugging from his torso. “This was not my first time seeing your new state, Dean.” Cas paused, as if he was reluctant to say when he had seen Dean, but when the demon didn’t respond, Cas relented, “It was in the pie shop in Mckinney.” Dean felt his eyebrows raise at the admission.

“You were following me?” The conclusion was not a far-reaching one, but Cas shook his head, causing Dean to ponder further. “Then how did you-”  
“I believe the phrase is ‘right place, right time’? I chose to…” Cas paused as if to consider his words, “honor your memory by partaking in the consumption of pie. I had tried a new flavor each day since your death when I found you there in Texas.” Dean felt his heart swell at the thought that Cas would feel that need with him gone. Though he wasn’t entirely sure what Cas believed it meant.

Dean hid his real feelings behind humor, his quickest and easiest defense when things got a little too close to feeling too deep for him to process. “I thought you said you could only taste molecules anymore. Why would pie be any different?” Dean expected a dry response, something he had found that Cas could pull out pretty quickly whenever Dean razzed him. Sarcasm seemed easy for the angel nowadays.

But instead, Cas earnestly responded, “Pie gave me the ability to feel close to you when I believed you lost.” Dean didn’t have a response ready for that. He almost stuttered, so thrown by the plain honesty in his best friend’s eyes. He didn’t have to come up with a response, however. Just his luck, any other time, he would feel blessed to escape the sudden emotion they were exchanging.

But this wasn’t one of the blessed times; instead, he felt his stomach drop as he saw Cas’s eyes rolled and his lids fluttered, his knees going out as all the life in Cas seemed to drain from him. Dean stumbled forward, catching Cas before he could completely wreck himself against the table. He hesitated just a moment before hefting Cas’s limp form up onto the table, laying him flat on his back. He surveyed Cas for another heartbeat, seeing his chest rising raggedly, and took that to mean he still had time. The switch somewhere in consciousness that had switched off earlier suddenly flipped back over in his anxiety and he looked at Cas’s grace, seeing how weak it really was. He realized he had been onto something early in his first assessment. As much as his form seemed far too big for his vessel, something told him that it should be burning so much brighter than it was. That it was a smolder in comparison to what it had been in years passed.


	5. Misconceptions and Hell

Dean decided abruptly that he had to act. This was something he could handle. It wasn’ a lost cause yet. He could fix this. He just needed help. He did what he hated, teleporting himself into Sam’s room as quickly as he could. He had a passing thought about the word, definitely wanting to take the time to explain to Sam that they had no idea how teleporting worked. When human, he had thought that the process was instantaneous. Bam boom, he would suddenly be in a different place. But now that he was doing it for himself, he knew it was more like flying, but faster than he could even describe. It was jarring whenever he did so, and generally avoided it. But walking to Sam’s room would have taken too long. He thought suddenly that he should ask Cas what he thought it was like. Was it even the same for angels? Perhaps he was different? Dean shook himself and focused. A mere second had passed since he had been in the room and Sam finally looked up from the book he had been reading.

“Dean? What- How did-”  
“No time, Sammy, it’s Cas.” Sam’s brow furrowed and Dean felt resentment at the accusatory look Sam shot his way. “Damnit, Sam, I didn’t do anything.” Dean felt time ticking like there was a giant clock on his shoulder, counting down the seconds Cas had left. “We don’t have time for this.” Dean flitted to Sam’s side, jerking him off the bed to stand, and then flew them back to the war room. Sam looked shocked by the process and Dean knew he would have felt smug if the situation were any different. But Dean didn’t have to smack his brother today, since the younger brother seemed smart enough to take in Cas’s raggedly breathing form.

“What happened?” Sam rushed to his side, but Dean hung back just a tad, struggling with the idea that they might be losing him. The very fact that he had wasted the last few weeks and not spent it with those that were most important to him ached through him. He felt like this was all his fault once again. If he had just dealt with his own issues, perhaps he would have found a way to restore Cas’s grace before it could have gotten this bad. Maybe he would have- “Dean!” Dean looked up to Sam’s face, breaking out of his internal struggle.

“It’s his grace.” Sam seemed to take this at face value, looking just as grim as Dean felt. He grasped at anything he could, trying to think of where Metatron could have taken Cas’s grace. Was there even anything left? They had been told there was, but could Metatron be trusted? Dean’s head whirled, thoughts spinning out of control until one floored him by the simplicity of it.

“Sam, watch him. I’ll be back as fast as I can.” He stepped into Sam’s personal space, pressing his hand into his pocket. 

“Dean, what are you-”

Dean pulled Sam’s phone from his pocket, stepping back with it held high. “I don’t have my phone. If even for a second stops breathing or worse, call me.”

Dean didn’t let Sam process what he had said before flying out, leaving the place he loved the most in this world to approach the one he hated most. _Hell._

It might seem odd, he knew that other demons had seemed thrown if they heard, but Dean had not set a toe back into Hell since he had died. Since Cas pulled him out of the pit, actually. But he knew that the only possible solution was currently down in the depths and for Cas, he would go where he hated.

Dean slowed as he felt his feet skim the dank that spanned just before the throne room, coming to a stop just before the doors. He rolled his shoulders, preparing himself for the inevitable torment that would be coming as soon as he stepped forward. He pushed down the anxiety he felt and instead flipped his eyes to black, for once wanting to feel the power of the demon taint in his blood flowing through him. He exhaled and then forced his strength forward, throwing open the doors before him with his mind. He chose to move with just a small extra flourish as he entered, hovering as he sent a strong gust of power forward with his wings. He rarely connected to this part of himself, but tonight it was necessary. It was the strongest part of himself, and he needed strength above all else.

Crowley looked up from some sort of pile of papers in his as Dean strode forward, shock not quite hidden quickly enough on his face before Dean could see it. Dean watched as it morphed into an arrogance Crowley wore well, one that Dean knew meant that Crowley was thrown by his presence there in Hell. They both knew each other well enough to sense that the other was not up to the game tonight. Crowley was surrounded as usual by the cronies that were vying for the King’s affections, trying to prove that they were valuable to the plots and plans of Hell.

But Dean held his ground as he approached. He didn’t let on how much his skin crawled. How attuned to the phone in his pocket he was. How fast his heart would be beating right now if he were still alive. He pasted a grin on his lips, but kept it from his eyes, trying to convey that Crowley shouldn’t mess with him tonight. But it couldn’t be that easy. Could it? No, Crowley had to push him, had to be an idiot and waste the little time he had.

“Squirrel.” Crowley’s slick tone rolled through the room, an air of distraction so convincing that Dean nearly believed it. Had he not been there the last time he had seen Crowley, he would have even believed it. But he knew better. “I knew that you would get tired of that moose of a brother of yours, given the time. But I’m surprised that it was this quickly.” 

Dean felt his irritation build but he tried to squash it down, tried to keep a level head about himself. It would be quicker to follow the rules, he knew that. “I’m requesting an audience, Crowley.” He kept his features neutral, but it was almost a losing battle when he saw the humor in Crowley’s eyes.

“I am in the middle of something, Dean. You know how busy of a man I am.” Dean heard the snideness, felt the tick of time in his pocket. He wouldn’t be proud of it later, but it was easy to say: he snapped.

Taking a single step forward, he raised his right hand to shoulder height and waved his hand in an air of indifference. Every demon in the room smoked into the air, save for Dean and Crowley, and Dean saw annoyance pass over the King’s face. Until it turned to anger, as Dean snapped his fingers with a second, more malicious grin. The demons didn’t swirl in the air or disappear into the deeper pits, but instead burned in the air, turning to ash and hitting the ground around them. Dean forced another gust of wind around them, beating his wings once to dislodge the ash from his clothes, a happy side effect being that most then flew into the King’s face.

“Did you have to do that?” Crowley spat, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping at his face. Dean chuckled and approached the throne with certainty in his steps. 

“ _Have to_ ? No of course not.” Dean paused as if nonchalant again, but kept his mind on the prize. “Was it fun, though? Of course. Remember, I don’t _have_ to do anything. We’ve discussed this.” Dean watched as Crowley situated himself back into a proper position on the throne. He could see the contempt there. But he also felt Crowley’s mind turning at the possibilities.

“Why are you here, Dean?” Dean wanted to applaud Crowley’s intuition.

“Doesn’t matter. I just need a favor.” Dean was hoping for a specific reaction and luckily he got it. Crowley was shocked. He had hoped to make his move while Crowley was disarmed. “I need grace. You’re never unprepared. I know you have some around here somewhere.” 

Crowley didn’t immediately respond and Dean almost gave in to the pressure. He wasn’t sure whether breaking his facade would mean beating the hell out of the demon before him or begging for his help. It could go either way, he knew. In moments like these, Dean wished he could somehow tap back into the Mark and use its strength to push forward. 

“And why should I help you, Squirrel?” Crowley gave a quick grin that definitely shoved Dean right into the waves of anger that he needed. “Is poor Feathers not doing well?” The feigned concern was enough for Dean at that moment.  
Dean took three long strides, stepping up onto the throne’s pedestal and pressing himself within a breath’s space of Crowley. “You and I both know what you fear, Crowley. I can make it happen.” Crowley tried in vain to keep a cool look upon his features, but Dean could see that he was faltering. He wanted this to move faster, however, and so he pressed even further, not letting up from Crowley at that moment, forgiving himself for not making Crowley squirm just a little longer. “I’ll sign a deal with you Crowley. You give me grace and anything you know that can help save Cas, and I won’t take hell from you right here and now.” Dean watched as a shocked and scoffing arrogance came over Crowley. He apparently had enough of Dean just then, and Dean stumbled back as Crowley threw him unexpectedly out of his personal space. Dean stumbled to his knee in the surprise of the moment. Crowley stood, stepping toward Dean with determination.

“Your desperation does not suit you, Dean. You and I both know that you do not want this.” Crowley eyed Dean as if he were a gnat that was buzzing annoyingly around his head. Dean righted himself at the moment that passed between them, and he summoned the First blade into his hand. Standing tall, he presented a steady and deadpan look to Crowley, who for his credit, didn’t cower.

“So what if I don’t want it.” Dean took a step forward, beginning a slow but deliberate circle around the king, who kept his eyes locked with Dean, neither of them blinking from the other’s eyes. “That’s not the point. What matters is that you do. I have no problem taking hell just because I can, Crowley. And we both know that I can. And will, just to spite you.” Dean pressed in closer, bringing the blade lazily up to point somewhat toward Crowley, remaining on the surface as calm as possible. “You give me what I want, or I _will_ take it. Choose Crowley.” Dean watched as Crowley made his way back to the throne. Crowley took his time and Dean held onto the last dredges of his sanity and tried not to throw the demon across the room at that moment. As Crowley looked up, Dean caught sight of the anger he had just below the surface.  
“One addendum, Dean. I give you what you need, and you agree to never step foot in my kingdom again. No excuses or exceptions.” Dean nodded and Crowley flipped his hand forward, throwing a vial to Dean. His finger barely closed around it before he was flying again, trying his damnedest to move as fast as he could. The phone was still calm and deadly quiet in his pocket, but was that good, was it to mean that Cas was still ok? Did Sam even know his own phone number to call if something went wrong? Suddenly, Dean felt the panic race through him that he had been pushing away and even though the trip back into the bunker had only taken mere seconds, he felt his breath catch in his throat as he came to a halt next to his brother, so sure that the younger Winchester would say he was too late.

Dean didn’t try to speak as he popped the cork from the vial in his hand, worried he wouldn’t know how to respond or how to force the grace into Cas. Sam tried asking where he had gone, what was he doing, what was going on, but in his anxiety, Dean ignored him and just focused on Cas. And the moment the top came free of the glass, the swirling energy inside began to flow out toward Cas.  
Cas felt his eyes fluttered open as something poured itself down his throat. He only just processed what was happening, screaming out, “Cover your eyes!” He was unsure of whether Dean alone or both Winchesters were near, but he couldn’t risk blinding either of them. Once the grace began to take hold in his chest, he felt power rip through him and heard a light bulb above them pop in the middle of it all. It took mere seconds, but finally, Cas felt it was safe to open his eyes and take in his surroundings. He looked around to find both Winchesters looking at him in concern, though they seemed a bit short for their normal heights. Looking down as he sat up, he noticed he had been laying on the table in the bunker’s war room.  
Sam was the first to speak, “How are you feeling, Cas?”

Cas swung his legs over the edge of the table, taking in the state of his vessel and grace. He felt much better than he had in the last moments he remembered. For a small moment, Cas felt a sense of relief, the horrible ache of his impending death having lessened. But then his mind began to process the impossibility of the situation and he realized what must have happened.

“I am much improved, Sam.” Cas slipped off the table, looking at the brothers for a moment. Sam’s concern seemed to be waning, but Dean seemed almost taken aback by the change. Cas tried to control the concern and frustration he felt, but he found it difficult. “I expected that my borrowed grace would expire. What happened while I was unresponsive?” Cas guessed correctly when it was Dean who spoke.

“Does it matter, Cas? You’re alive, that’s all that matters.” Dean’s dismissive tone struck Cas in just the wrong way, and he felt a surge of frustration.

“Dean, what have you done?” He stepped just a bit closer, causing Dean to meet his eyes. Cas didn’t know if he was imagining the guilt he saw there. “The grace keeping me alive is from one of my brethren. How did you procure it?”

Dean scoffed, stepping away, not meeting Cas’s gaze. “Don’t worry about it, Cas. All that matters is that you’re ok.” Dean began walking away, when Cas felt his frustration come to a head.

“Who was it?” Cas snapped, feeling a strangely powerful lash of anger. “While I do appreciate then sentiment, what I have just been forced into is the equivalent to cannibalism. Which brother have you killed?” 

Cas felt a shock of confusion hit him at the hurt he saw flash across Dean’s face. The look passed quickly, replaced by a sneer. 

“Of course you would think that.” Dean didn’t wait for Cas to process that before he vanished, expertly teleporting to his room in a way of escape.

Sam looked in the general direction of the rooms, before sighing and reminding Cas that he was even there at all. “Ignore him, Cas. We’re both grateful to have you back to full strength.” Cas made a mental note to correct Sam later about that, given that Sam kept talking and not allowing him to speak at this moment. “He did what he thought was right, you can’t fault him for that.” Sam seemed to think of something, but only verbalized a small portion, saying, “Do you think…” Sam raised an eyebrow to Cas, shrugging his shoulders and walking away, leaving Cas to his thoughts.

Cas leaned back against the table. He was thankful for his life. He would make sure Dean knew that. But Dean also needed to understand what he had done. He loved Dean’s need to protect those he cared about. But he still needed to think through his choices. He couldn’t just kill other angels anytime he needed grace to live. Cas replayed Sam’s words, whispering to himself, “ _Do you think…_?” Cas stopped, wondering if Sam had been insinuating that same thought that was now passing through his mind. Fidgeting with the lapels of his trusted trench coat, he forwent the option of flying to Dean’s room, instead walking slowly down the hall. He struggled to think of the words to say. Knowing he had probably once again stuck his foot in his mouth, as Dean said. 

He knocked at the door, waiting a few moments before opening the door himself when Dean didn’t answer. He found Dean sitting on his bed, headphones playing into his ears. Cas heard the sounds of Led Zeppelin coming through the speakers, though he couldn’t be sure what song was playing. Dean’s features were set in an angry grimace as he set his gaze on Cas’s intruding form, but he at least pulled his headphones back off one of his ears. He didn’t speak, but Cas wasn’t expecting him to. It was Cas’s turn to make amends.

“Dean, I am sorry, but I forgot to thank you for saving me. I was rash in my anger.” Cas stepped farther into the room, sitting in a chair off to the side of the room. He waited for Dean to speak, not knowing how exactly to proceed.

He wasn’t shocked by the ire in Dean’s voice, though it still stung nonetheless. “Don’t sweat it. I deserved it, didn’t I?” Dean slunk back just a bit further, and Cas took the hurt in Dean’s voice as confirmation.

“You didn’t kill one of my brothers, did you?” Cas leaned forward on his knees and watched as Dean’s eyebrow cocked up in surprise.

“Why would you say that? You were so sure in the other room.” 

“Dean, I am sorry, but I reacted with my gut, not my brain. I know you, and I know the hurt I saw on your face. If you didn’t kill anyone, where did you get the grace?”

“I-” Dean sighed and pulled the headphones completely off before sitting up straighter, crossing his legs. Even in all his bravado, Cas could see how uncomfortable Dean was to admit what was coming, telling Cas to think hard on how he would respond, no matter what Dean told him. “I went to hell. Traded Crowley for it. No big deal.” Dean scoffed and a small chuckle followed, Cas was sure that Dean found humor in the irony. But Cas had to hold himself together for a moment, trying not to yell at the Winchester sitting in front of him.

“Yes, Dean, it is a ‘big deal’. Why would you go and make a deal with Crowley? You know how every deal the two of you have ever made has ended.”  
“Trust me, it was nothing, Cas. I told Crowley I’d take hell if he didn't make the deal. He couldn’t risk that I was serious.”

“Of course you do not want to take hell, though, do you, Dean?” 

“No of course not,” Dean admitted to Cas what had been building since he had collapsed. “I hadn’t even went back after I died. But when it was your life on the line… I didn’t even think about it until my feet were back on the ground. Cas, I just got back and I’m not going to be able to get back to normal without you here.” Dean seemed to realize just how sappy he had gotten in that moment and cleared his throat. “I mean, who else is gonna watch Netflix with me and ask dumb questions?”  
Cas chuckled, though he surprised himself with the tug he felt in his chest. He wished it were more than what Dean said, but knew better. “I simply am asking questions that should have been posed during the production of the films.” Cas stood, wandering lazily back toward the door. “I will leave you to acclimate, Dean. Again, thank you for saving my life.” He stepped out and began to close the door before pushing it back open just a bit, looking back, catching Dean putting the headphones back one with a lighter look. Dean noticed and paused. “I just wanted to say that I am glad you have returned.”

Dean smiled as he watched Cas walked out and close the door behind him. He couldn’t explain the feeling in his chest as Zeppelin’s _Black Dog_ started to play, but it was a pleasant feeling, so he decided to ride the wave. He didn’t have to think about his feelings tonight, instead, he could just lay back and relax at last. He was finally home.


	6. Asstiel and Deanmon Out To Get Ya

Dean wanted to smack Cas across the back of his ruffled mop of a head, but he somehow restrained himself. 

“Cas, for the last time, I don’t know whether they intended for Ferris to be a figment of Cameron's imagination. They probably thought it would just be a funny movie to make. Just watch the friggin movie.” 

Cas glared over at Dean from the other couch, shoulders hunched. “Are my questions bothering you, Dean?” There was a snark in his tone that hit Dean in the chest for some reason, but he ignored it. “I just think that the subtle use of human psychopathy might lend to a deeper meaning for this scene.” Dean groaned and began to open his mouth to rebuttal the angel or at least tell him to shut his gob, but when Cas brought his fist up to his mouth to stifle a cough, Dean turned worried as usual. 

“Buddy, you ok?” Dean leaned forward, not wanting to be relaxed back on the couch if Cas fainted again. Cas waved away his concern.

“I am fine, Dean.” He coughed again but recovered quickly enough to keep speaking. “This is just an unfortunate side effect of my stolen grace, I am afraid.” 

Dean’s brow furrowed. “It hasn’t even been a full week since you got it. It can’t be giving out already.” Dean minded turned over quickly. “Did Crowley cheat me? I swear if he-”

“I am sure it wasn’t his intention.” Dean cocked an eyebrow at Cas’s certainty, who shrugged in response. “Perhaps it was, but that is of little import. As long as I have stolen grace, it will fade, Dean. It is an unavoidable truth of my situation.”

Dean felt fury build in his chest. He wasn’t going to just let Cas die, not now that he had his life back. Or was beginning to. He stood up fast, forgetting the movie on the scene, and headed down the hall at record speed. He heard Cas’s footsteps behind his as he rounded the corner into the library. He stopped dead in his tracks, realizing almost immediately that, while his anger fueled his feet to their main avenue of research, he had no idea where to even begin looking. 

Sam looked up from a table, a large leather-bound book below his fingers. “Dean? What is it?” Dean opened his mouth to speak, but then Cas ran near full speed into him and he had to grab the frame of the door to keep them from falling. Cas stepped back from him, an apologetic look on his face for a moment before the flurry of activity caused a second coughing fit. Dean pushed him toward a seat next to Sam.

“That’s what’s up. We gotta find a way to fix him.” Dean stayed standing looking around them at the endless amount of volumes feeling both frustrated and concerned at their current outlook. 

“Dean, I have told you.” Cas groaned in a somewhat impatient tone, which Dean chose to ignore. “There is nothing that can be done about my situation, short of regaining my own grace. Which we know is quite improbable.” Cas turned to Sam then, taking a look at the book before his, suddenly overly interested in what the younger Winchester was up to. “What are you researching currently, Sam?”

Sam looked uncomfortable, looking like someone who was stuck in between a fighting couple. “I was reading more of the documents the Men of Letters kept of their experiments. I try to read more anytime we don’t have a case we are working on.” Sam’s face definitely screamed ‘Someone save me from the fighting couple’ but Dean wasn’t going to let Cas get distracted and he would pull Sam down with him if he had to.

“Sam, tell him. There has to be something we can do, right?”  
“I don’t know. He’s right, Dean. If we don’t have his grace, from everything I’ve read, we’re just band-aiding the issue.” Dean grunted in response, struggling with impulse control in his fists.

“Well, then we come up with a plan to get your grace back, Cas.” 

“While that would be the preferred solution, I have to repeat that I do not believe there is anything left to find. Metatron certainly used what was necessary for the spell.”

“Did he say it was all gone?”

Cas stared at Dean for a moment, turning over his last interactions with Metatron over in his head. “He did not. But even if there were remnants remaining, why would he surrender them to me?”

Dean grinned and Cas knew that look, how he loved and hated that look. Dean had a plan brewing. “Because you can do the one thing Metatron wants. Set him free.”  
~~~

Metatron couldn’t feel his vessel’s legs. He hated the cell he now lived in. He had grown tired of the hard surface he sat endlessly on. He had pestered the other angels to bring him some modern comforts, to no avail. How would he break out if they gave him a pillow or even a book? He was so bored in this place, he thought he might claw his own eyes out just for the entertainment value.

Luckily, life was about to get a whole lot more entertaining. Metatron watched curiously as Castiel came into view and approached the bars of his cell with trepidation.

“Asstiel. Didn’t think I’d see you again. Come to put me out of my misery?” Metatron kept up his air of indifference and snark, if only to preserve his pride. He couldn’t, wouldn’t cower now, knowing that his sarcasm and wit were the only things Castiel couldn’t take from him. 

Castiel frowned in the way one would look upon a child who was not taking their punishment seriously. “Metatron. I have come to offer you an exchange.” Metatron couldn’t help to rocking laughter that ripped itself from his lungs. 

“What could you possibly have to offer me? Have the others told you that I requested books? If you are offering I would rather be alone.” Metatron looked away, not noticing the look Castiel shot down the hall at the mention of the other angels.

“I am offering your freedom.” Metatron couldn’t help it; his head snapped back forward to look Castiel straight in the eyes. He couldn’t be serious… could he?

“And the other angels have agreed to this?” Metatron let his doubt color his tone.  
“I think that it is wise that we not involve them.

“So, prison break then? You must want something big. What could I offer you?” Metatron pretended that he had to think it over, but he knew what Castiel must be asking for. “How are you, by the way? I would have thought that your borrowed grace would have expired by now.”   
Anger flared in Castiel’s eyes, and Metatron took that as a small win, knowing there wouldn’t be many of those in his future. “I believe you know what I am asking for. If you are in possession or have knowledge of remaining dredges of my grace, I will assist you in escaping.” Metatron wanted to drag this out, but even he wasn’t stupid enough to let his pride get in the way of his freedom. 

“There may be some left on Earth. I can take you there.” Castiel didn’t wait for time to pass after confirmation. He stepped forward, unlocking the door quickly with a key that Metatron hadn’t yet seen. He rushed forward to meet Castiel on the other side, knowing they had very little time to get out if they wanted to go undetected. While he wouldn’t mind going toe to toe with a few of their brethren, he knew Castiel’s bleeding heart would prefer they escape with minimal bloodshed.

Luck was on their side, the entire route out of heaven being dormant of others. When Metatron’s feet hit the sand beneath the portal, he paused to take in the surroundings. Even a meager playground was a sight for sore eyes, the white purity of heaven feeling permanently burned into his vessel’s retinas.

Metatron turned on Castiel then, proffering his hands with a tilt in his eyebrow. “Care to uncuff me, Asstiel? I would prefer to be free while we travel.” 

Castiel gave him a droll stare, but before he could speak, he was thrown across the playground, slamming hard into the jungle gym. Metatron spun on his heel, revealing the one person he hadn’t expected.

“You should be dead.” Dean Winchester looked like he could either laugh at that or maybe just skewer him then and there. Metatron stole a glance over his shoulder, taking in the fact that Castiel was still on the ground and he wasn’t moving.

Dean approached him slowly, a saunter in his gate that Metatron hadn’t previously noticed in their interactions together. “That’s because I am, thanks to you.” Dean’s eyes flashed over to black and Metron took an instinctive step back from the demon before him. “Mark made sure I didn’t stay down.” Metatron’s mind wheeled at that, thinking back to the beginning, realizing he remembered he had heard rumors about Cain as well back in the day.

“What do you want with me, Dean?”  
“Not so much you, as Feathers over there. See, he obviously needs you, if he broke you out. And that means that you are suddenly my new best friend.”

“But why?”  
“You’re smarter than that, Metatron. I want to hurt him. Isn’t it obvious why? Because I can.” Dean seemed bored with everything around them. “So whatever he came to get from you, I want it.”

“He wanted his grace.”   
“Then give it to me instead and I’ll let you go free.” Metatron couldn’t help laughing at that. 

“Why should I give it to you instead of Castiel? What makes you think I planned to give it over to anyone?”  
Dean suddenly reached upwards and Metatron found himself pulled forward. He wanted, tried to fight it, but Dean Winchester was remarkably strong for a relatively new demon. Dean grabbed him around the throat, and before he could even struggle, Metatron felt a blade slice into his neck. He felt his grace pulling forward and out of his throat with a pain like he had never felt before. Dean stepped back quickly holding up a deceivingly small vial. 

“You give me his grace, and I give back yours. Easy as pie.” 

Metatron looked over to Castiel’s still form on the ground and sighed, feeling weaker than he ever had before and begrudgingly accepted. 

```

“Cas, you alright?” Cas looked up at the concerned younger Winchester. 

“Of course, Sam. I wanted to make quite sure our act was believed. I simply feigned unconsciousness.” Standing and shaking himself off, he stared off into the distance, following where Dean had disappeared with Metatron. 

“He didn’t have to throw you so hard, though.” Sam looked like he was contemplating whether Dean had enjoyed hurting Cas, but the angel knew better than to think so.

“Dean did what he thought was best. It wouldn’t be wise to give Metatron any reason to doubt that Dean is evil.” Sam looked unconvinced and Cas surprisedly realized what the deeper problem was just under the surface. “You are unconvinced that Dean is only acting.”

“No! Of course I-” Sam sighed, a deep frown darkening his features. “I want to believe Dean is still who he always has been, Cas. I really do. But it’s just hard. A lifetime of hunter’s training is hard to break.”

“You’ll have to trust him, Sam. I do." Cas tried to give Sam a look that would comfort the younger hunter. But he knew only time would heal the wound that Sam was carrying. "I have seen your brother's soul, and while I do believe he has been changed in some ways, he is still your brother where it matters most.”

Sam didn't seem convinced, but he seemed to know when other matters were more important. “Thanks, Cas. We should probably follow them before we get too far behind.” Sam began to walk back toward the car, but Cas caught his arm. 

  
“Actually, Sam, I believe the final leg of our journey would best be taken alone by myself.”

```

Cas crept along behind Dean and Metatron, keeping just out of sight, staying just a moment out of sync with their reality, just in case Metatron would still be able to sense his presence. He watched as Dean pushed Metatron forward roughly, spitting a curse at the now human, commanding he move faster and reveal their hunted prize.

Cas found himself losing his focus, trying to stay attentive to Metatron’s actions and words, but he couldn’t seem to focus on anything but Dean. He guessed he shouldn’t be surprised, but he was always so taken with Dean’s presence when working a case. He was always a domineering personality, strong and self-assured, and never faltering.

But now, maybe it was something different. As Cas watched Dean moved, he let himself study everything about the man, taking in the wisps of his soul and how his wings twitched behind him in agitation as he moved, ushering Metatron along. It was as he took in the glittering beauty of the emerald feathers that Cas finally placed what he was feeling.

He was in love with Dean Winchester. 

It wasn’t the emotion that surprised him, he had known about its presence for years. But once Dean had died, Cas had relegated his feelings back into the pockets of his mind, telling himself that he would continue to care for the Winchester, but knowing he couldn’t feel this way anymore. It was enough to try to trust him now and not feel disgusted by his new state. But Cas was shocked to feel it rear itself to the forefront, reminding him of its presence. He tried to make sense of it all, but kept following them for fear that he would lose them in his distraction.

How could he still love Dean after what he had become? He trusted the man, had accepted that Dean had not chosen this path, believed when Dean told him that he wasn’t evil. But how could he love him? Wasn’t that worse than anything he had ever done? He felt his pulse quicken as Dean lashed out at Metatron, his soul spiraling wide, his eyes back and sharp, and Cas realized it was even deeper and more dangerous than he thought. 

He wasn’t just in love with the demon; he found the edge of sinistral energy about Dean to be… sexy. Cas felt his a rush just under his skin at the thought, felt his slacks tighten around his groin, caught his breath in his throat. If he had ever been an abomination in heaven’s eyes, he was certainly lost now to the snare that was Dean Winchester’s eternal sex appeal and charm.

Cas tried to pay attention as he watched them, trying to keep his mind off feelings and thoughts that would never benefit him. He felt his pulse quicken when he watched Metatron pull a book down from a shelf behind him. When had they entered a library? Had Cas lost himself that deeply to his thoughts and desires? Metatron opened the book to reveal the vial inside and even from the distance they had separating them now, Cas could see a begrudgingly angry sneer on his features.

Dean flicked his eyes toward Cas then, giving him the silent signal they had discussed. Cas brought himself back in sync with them then, feeling just how much being just so very slightly misaligned had weakened him. He stepped closer bringing them all within a whisper's distance. Metatron shifted his gaze and for a moment he seemed to think he had won, but then Cas could see reality was hitting him.

“I’ve been had, haven’t I?”

Dean chuckled, tickled by just how easy this had all been. He tossed the vial to Cas, who shifted only slightly to catch it. “That what you’re looking for, Cas?” Dean watched for Cas to inspect the vial, but instead, he just held it tight in his palm.

“Yes, Dean. Thank you.” Dean watched as Cas approached Metatron, taking in how weak his remaining stolen grace was now. They had made it just in time, it seemed. “I will take Metatron back to heaven, now that he is no longer of use.”

Dean smiled and nodded, letting Cas disappear before he headed back toward the impala, pulling out his phone to let Sam know that everything had worked out as planned.


	7. Redhead and Stubble

It had been too long since Dean felt like they had a windfall. He was lighter on his feet, laughing along to something Cas had said, watching Sam eat in that peculiar way of his. Dean couldn’t believe it was back to the good old times and they were headed home, back together in the warmth of Baby’s interior, as if she alone protected them from the harsh world around them. 

He was still laughing when he heard Sam’s phone start ringing, causing them to all take a breath and focus on what was going to be the new big bad thing coming for them. At least, Dean did. He couldn’t help it. Life told him that it was just perfect timing to have something blow up in their faces. He smiled though when he glanced to see Sam hit the answer button, immediately putting the phone on speaker. The caller ID calmed him just enough to keep his mouth shut for a moment. 

“What’s up, Bitches?” Dean grinned even wider, taking in the jovial tone that Charlie held on the other end. “Just wanted to see if you were near the bunker. I just pulled in and hoped I’d catch ya. Thought it might be a good night for a few cold ones. Plus I got a lead on a possible case.”

“We’re coming through Lebanon now, so yeah, we can meet you there.” Sam looked sideways to Dean, as if he wanted to ask the older Winchester a question, but Charlie cut him off with a laugh.

“We? Is Cas with you? I’ve been meaning to meet old Feathers for a while now. See you soon then, Bitches!” And like the whirlwind she was, Charlie cut the call, leaving Dean feeling like he had taken twenty rounds with Mr. T.

“Well, at least we got a potential case, right? Didn’t realize how much I missed her, until-”

“Dean!” Sam’s sharp tone caught him off guard as he took the last turn that would lead them up to the bunker’s drive. “Shouldn’t we think about what’s gonna happen when we get there?” Sam seemed to be implying something heavy, something Dean should get instantly. Dean just cocked his brow and shrugged, not letting his little brother see just how much it irked him when his mind went daft like this. He hoped Cas might speak up from the back seat even, but Dean caught a stony face in the rearview. He wasn’t sure what was on Cas’s mind now, but he felt like the light air they had possessed was now sullied.

“Have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Slow down a minute and-”

“Sorry, Sammy. Don’t know about you, but I’m just as much in a hurry to see Charlie as I am to be back in my home. I want a shower and a three-day nap in my own bed.”

Sam gave him the look that said ‘Don’t tell me I didn’t warn ya’ but stayed silent for the last half a mile. Down at the edge of the bunker’s garage drive, Charlie stood against her car, looking down at her phone, but at the sound of the tired coming close, Dean watched as she looked up and then cocked her head in a weird look of disbelief. 

Dean cut Baby’s engine as soon as he could. He usually controlled himself, taking all the steps he needed to do things the normal way, but he was just so damned happy to see the girl he counted as his sister that he opted for the quicker, more demony route. He teleported to her side, pulling her into a hug.

It took about a half of a second for Dean to get just what Sammy had been trying to tell him. Charlie pulled back quickly with a strangled yelp, putting her hand near her hip, reaching for a gun or knife, Dean wasn’t sure what she was packing tonight. The look of pure shock and fear shook Dean at that moment and he realized just how stupid he really was.

“Sorry, kiddo. I forgot-”

“Forgot that you were supposed to be dead?” Dean didn’t blame Charlie for her reaction but damn was he getting tired of being cut off today. “And how did you just… appear?!” Dean shrugged again, trying not to freak her out further, but he wasn’t exactly sure how to proceed. He made a mental note that he should make some calls when they had some downtime. He didn’t need this reaction every time they saw family. 

He heard the doors open and close on Baby and watched as Cas came around into view. He hoped he would be able to help, or maybe Sam. Sam had always been great at the touchy-feely bullshit that Dean had never learned. But no, of course, Cas had to open his lips and say the one thing Dean was avoiding.

“Hello, Charlie. Dean was able to appear beside you because he is now a demon.” Dean waited for Charlie to scream or run. Hell, even shoot him. But instead, she stood frozen for a moment before she sorta just deflated. Dean almost thought she looked like a balloon clown that had been punctured.

“Well, I guess that makes sense.” She looked like she was literally chewing on the information for a moment, but she asked, “Was it the Mark of Cain? You did die though, didn’t you?” Dean was so shocked by the blatant acceptance that Sam had to respond. 

“Yeah, he did, and it was. You good already?”

“Well, not much surprises me anymore. Not since I met the two of you, anyways. Too many teeth on my old boss kinda does that to a girl.” Dean smiled at the quip and went to clap Charlie on the shoulder, pulling back and playing it off as an involuntary twitch when he noticed she flinched away. He kept his distance, forcing the smile to stay on his lips and not show her how much that hurt him. Charlie distracted herself quickly though, finally noticing that Cas had been there the whole time in all the commotion.

“Oh my god, Castiel!” She bounced over to him and pulled him into a hug, which gave Cas an avenue to give Dean a completely confused look. “I’ve wanted to meet you for so long! I thought you’d be taller though! Chuck got the eyes right, though didn’t he?” 

Charlie kept chattering away as the four of them slowly started making their way into the bunker, and Dean couldn’t help leaning over to Sam as they walked behind, whispering, “Why do I feel like those two are going to be the death of us?” Sam said nothing response, just laughing freely as they went inside.

~~~

“So, they’re just killing each other?”

Dean didn’t really get where the case was and staring into the piles of papers on the table wasn’t really helping him tonight. He grabbed his beer, attempting to take a swig before standing to grab a new one and tossing the empty.

“Not exactly.” Charlie pulled a page from one of the stacks, one that Dean hadn’t yet read. She handed it over to Sam, who began to take a look over the information. “I haven’t went to do interviews yet, but it almost seems like they’re telling the truth, and _then_ they’re killing themselves or others.”

Dean wasn’t sure why that was significant. “Charlie, people tell the truth all the time. It doesn’t usually lead to death.” 

Sam scoffed, and chuckled as he flipped the sheet over, “You sure, Dean? What if you had to tell the absolute truth about everything?” Dean flipped Sam off and rolled his eyes, but listened as his brother continued. “You’re thinking that they killed _because_ they told the truth? What would make them do both?” 

“It is possible that the truth was a symptom. Perhaps it caused guilt, or anger, which fueled the murders.” Cas offered that possibility to the group, which Dean thought wasn’t a bad theory. 

“So, Tom gets forced to tell the truth. Admits something big, like sleeping with the maid, and the Mrs. offs him. Not a bad theory, Cas.” Dean looked back to Charlie. “Were the vics all the ones who were talking too much?” 

Charlie shook her head. “Five of the vics were, but three were the partners of someone who was affected. And two were suicides, one of each.” 

“So we have nothing, it sounds like,” Dean grunted, feeling like they were toeing the line between a case and just a bit of a weird weekend in a normally sleepy town.

“Not exactly. We know all of the affected were couples, but past that they had very little in common.” Cas provided the intel but Dean still wasn’t convinced. He tried his best to see it, but he thought maybe that there was just nothing to be seen. 

Sam looked like he was struggling with the details, but offered, “What will it hurt to take a look? We’ve went for less.” 

“Dean, Sam is correct. I believe we should at least give it an honest attempt.” Dean couldn’t fight Cas on it, he’d give him that. 

“Fine, we take a look. But I think we’re wasting a trip. Where is this place, anyways, Charlie?” 

Charlie listed the coordinates, giving Dean a general idea that the small town was deep in the heart of corn country: Small Town USA, Indiana. Dean sighed, not really getting any excitement from where they were headed. He stretched his shoulder, watching as Sam stood more quickly than he expected.

“Shouldn’t we head out? It’s about an 8-hour drive, so we could probably hit town early if we get going soon.” Sam looked like he was waiting for the rest of them to agree. 

“Why don’t we take a few, hit the showers and get a hunter’s four?” Dean suggested, really hoping he could get just a few hours here in the bunker. The time away had been fruitful but he definitely needed to recoup after the excitement. Luckily Charlie spoke up and saved him. 

“I’m with Dean. I think we should get a few winks before we head out. The murders have been pretty close together, but I think a few hours wouldn’t hurt.”

Sam nodded and looked to Cas. “I’m going to grab a few books from the library before we go, do you have any ideas about what it might be?” 

Cas shook his head but offered, “I will accompany you and attempt to find something of use.” 

Dean watched the two leave before standing to walk off to his room. He was looking forward to his memory foam and some decent water pressure.

“Dean?”

He turned back and saw he had completely abandoned Charlie in his rush to sleep. “Sorry, kiddo. You can have one of the rooms down this way if you want. Think we still have the one you stayed in last time made up.” Charlie nodded and followed after him, but she looked a bit tense. Dean thought it was weird, but he knew she would tell him when she was ready. Which apparently came when they hit his door, his hand on the knob as she piped up.

“Sorry about before, Dean.”  
“What do you mean?” 

Charlie sheepishly met Dean’s graze. “I’m sorry how I reacted to your new… lifestyle choice?” Charlie sort of shrugged and Dean shook his head at her turn of phrase, but let her continue. “It was a bit of a shock.” 

“I get that, Charlie. It’s been a bit crazy on my side too.”  
“I hate to ask, but you really are the same in there as always?” She looked embarrassed to ask, but he understood where she was coming from. 

“Yeah, kid. Still me.” The smile that stretched her face made Dean feel like it would be alright between all of them. It would just take time. “I need some sleep though, so I’ll see you in a few?” 

Charlie nodded and headed a few feet down the hall, but by the time he turned the knob, Dean heard the footsteps stop. He looked down to see she had stopped and seemed to be perplexed by something as she looked back toward him. She smiled as she realized she was caught. 

“It’s nothing. Have a good sleep.” She tried to turn away, but something about the thoughtful look in her eye made Dean call out. 

“What is it?”

This time the look that crossed Charlie’s brow was contemplative, “Well, I was just wondering about something is all. I get why you and Sam are still single.” Dean almost took offense, but Charlie laughed and waved her hand at him. “No, I mean why you’ve chosen the bachelor’s life. Hunting doesn’t really let you have a normal relationship, ya know? But I just wondered, if two hunters were attracted to one another, would they stand a chance?” Charlie’s tone had turned serious, but Dean couldn’t help himself.

“You find yourself a nice lady hunter on one of your adventures?”

Charlie laughed, “No, nothing like that. I just wondered what has kept you and Cas apart this whole time.”  
Dean choked on air. No, really. Air. Because it couldn’t be that he was shocked by what Charlie had just insinuated. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

Charlie stepped forward, a look of amused shock on her face. “Oh honey, you can’t be that thick.” Dean shook his head. She couldn’t be thinking that. 

“I _really_ have no idea what you mean.” Dean tried to look away but he knew Charlie wouldn’t give up that easily. “Maybe it’s been the fact that I’m straight? That might explain it?” For some reason, this made Charlie just laugh and shake her head as she headed down the hall to her bedroom.

Dean shrugged off the blatantly obvious attempt by his adoptive little sis at calling out his supposed homoerotic urges. He chuckled at the absurdity of it all and headed into his room. As he stripped down for a shower, he mulled over the accusation that he would be involved with Cas. It was ridiculous, of course. Cas was his best friend and nothing more than that. His mind turned over the details as he swiped a towel from the floor, wrapping it around himself as he headed to the shower down the hall.

There was nothing he could think of that would even lead to the assumption that Cas and he were a couple. Sure, people made jokes about Cas being his boyfriend quite often, but Dean allowed that to pass as those people were usually dicks. Plus, they weren’t serious. That had to be it, Charlie wasn’t serious. How could she be? He was the most hetero guy he knew. She had to be joking, that was that.

Dean stepped into the bathroom, dropping his towel over the bar next to the shower. He couldn’t help the smile that took over his lips. He loved his shower. There was nothing like the water pressure here in the bunker, and Dean made sure to never say anything bad about the old place within earshot, just in case it really was magic keeping the old girl running. Didn’t want to risk pissing her off and losing his one little piece of heaven here on earth.

Stepping into the show he shivered at the cold porcelain of the tub below his toes before twisting on the water. The spray was icy as it hit his skin and he chuckled. Sam had always told him when they were kids that he was weird for not warming the shower first, but Dean couldn’t imagine doing it any other way anymore. After all was said and done, a good shock of cold water went a long way to wake him up many nights and sober him when mornings came too soon. As the water heated up, he also reminded himself that you can’t really appreciate warmth until you’ve been cold.

Grabbing the shampoo from the ledge, which he, of course, wouldn’t tell Sammy he was using, his thoughts went back to Charlie and Cas. Well, mainly Cas. There was nothing there, nothing more than friendship. At least, he was pretty sure that was true. 

But if it was, why was he so worked up over it? Why was it that he had never seen anything between them, and now that Charlie opened her big mouth, he was suddenly doubting himself? He tilted his head back to wash out the shampoo and took a deep breath. He knew what it was. He was pent up. He hadn’t been out bar hopping for a quick fling in weeks. With everything going on, it made sense, but he realized now he was itching for release. He wasn’t usually one to take care of the issue himself, as he was unopposed to one night stands and just went trolling when the need hit him. But it wasn’t exactly the most opportune time, so he leaned back against the shower wall and steadied himself, taking his cock in his hand.

He kept his pace slow and steady, letting the tension work itself out of his muscles, even as they began to tighten back up for other reasons. He felt his breath quicken and he smiled a bit. He couldn’t help it, he just loved the feeling of his blood pumping. Other than the taste of pie on his tongue and a full belly, orgasms were probably his favorite feeling. 

It didn’t take long for him to realize his usual mental pictures weren’t enough this time. His arm was starting to ache a bit and he was feeling no closer to release. So he switched it up from old flings and loves and started building from his imagination. His thoughts produced brown hair and blue eyes, pushing him closer, he imagined sweet dirty nothings being whispered, and he felt his gut tighten. But as he felt himself lose control, he processed that the image that did it for him was the scratching of stubble on his chest as a mouth devilishly tickled his skin.

As he felt his breathing slow closer to normal, he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling of the shower. _Stubble?_ He focused and brought the image into a clearer picture in his mind, cursing as he saw a devilish grin on lips that he knew too well.


	8. Whiskey Therapy

Charlie tucked a few pieces of clothes into a bag as she heard a knock on her door. Crossing the room, she was shocked to find a sopping wet Dean standing on the other side of the door, looking flushed and perturbed. She didn’t comment on the fact that Dean was tracking water everywhere or the fact that he was wearing only a towel. She just opened the door wider, letting him in, before closing it behind him. As soon as it clicked shut, Dean rounded on her, looking a mixture of upset and flabbergasted.

“So is it obvious? How long has everyone but me known?”

Charlie took pity and didn’t make Dean say what he was implying. “I don’t think it’s obvious. I really only picked up on it from the books.” She shrugged, going back to packing, trying not to let him know how awkward she felt at having him basically naked in her room, demanding she explain his relationship issues. 

“ _ Chuck put it in the books _ ?” Dean exclaimed, taking a seat at the desk in the corner, luckily putting his elbows on his knees in frustration, which had the effect of tucking the towel down and saving Charlie from unwanted images.

“Not exactly.” Charlie winced when Dean gave her a demanding look. “It was just sort of subtext. I kinda ship you two.” Dean looked confused at the word. “I’m sorry, but the two of you just give off the gay vibe when you’re together. You’re perfect together. The shipper in me couldn’t help it.” 

“We give off gay vibes?” Dean looked completely distraught at the idea. 

“You guys are perfect together.” She knew she was repeating herself, but when Dean didn’t look completely convinced, Charlie grabbed the other chair and sat across from him. “Look, it’s not a bad thing ok? He gets you. You get him. You’re the only one who always believes in him, and he literally risked his life to pull you from hell.” Somehow her explanation made his face fall, and she really didn’t get why. “What did I say?”

“Charlie, that’s just it. Hell, demon, everything.” He stood, shaking his head. “Even if we were great together, that doesn’t erase the fact that I’m no good for anyone. I’ve caused him so much pain and heartache over the years. Even if I am attracted to him, it’s better if I don’t pursue it.” Charlie tried to speak up, but Dean shook his head as he reached for the doorknob. “I appreciate ya looking out for me, kid, but I made my mind up. It’s better if I ignore it and we go about our lives.” 

Charlie watched as he left, shaking her head at his stupidity. If there ever was a stupid Winchester moment, this was one. Dean Winchester was the dumbest man around if she had an opinion on it. Sure, he had some run-ins with back luck in the love department, but she knew he was a good man, and if she had anything to say about it, he was going to end up happy. 

~~~ 

The alarm went off too early and Dean felt just as unrested as he had when he laid down four hours ago. It wasn’t exactly necessary for him to sleep, but he found it made his mind clearer and gave him a sense of time passing. Old human habits died hard, he guessed. 

Bag of supplies for the road over his shoulder, he headed to the war room and found the rest of the gang there. Dean grabbed his keys from the hook on the wall, heading into the garage to see his favorite girl waiting for him. At least she was always there for him and would never make him face feelings he wasn’t ready for. 

Opening the driver’s door, he paused as he watched Charlie head toward her car.

“Kid, we can take Baby. We got the room.” Charlie seemed edgier than her normally bubbly self, and Dean relented, given the new information she had been thrust into so recently. Perhaps she had rethought her high opinion of him and no longer thought he was a good riding companion. “We could meet there I guess. Sam and Cas, you with me?” Sammy swung around to the passenger side, but Cas stalled, catching a look on Charlie’s face.

“I was sorta hoping Feathers would ride with me. Keep me company and all. How about it, Castiel? It’d get you out of the backseat?”

Cas nodded and Dean kept from showing how much he hated the idea. He wasn’t sure why he hated it, he just knew that he didn’t like it one bit. He got why Charlie would want someone with her, but he felt like she and Cas were going to be trouble for him. Something about his best friend and more or less little sister hanging out just gave him the chills.

~~~

Charlie gave it about five miles of silence before she finally broke the tension and glanced toward the passenger seat. Castiel was sitting so prim and proper in the seat that he almost looked like he thought slouching might be a mortal sin. 

“So Castiel. You feeling better with your grace back?” Charlie knew it was a cop-out for conversation, but she didn’t really know what else to say to an angel of the lord. “Thanks again for healing my carpal tunnel back there.”

“Cas.” 

Charlie lifted an eyebrow. “What?”

“You may call me Cas. I quite appreciate the abbreviation.” Charlie smiled, and nodded, finding it easier to talk to Cas knowing that he wasn’t a stiff like the books had portrayed him. “You are quite welcome.”

Charlie looked back to the road, pondering the past few hours of information she had gained about their mutual friend. “Can I ask you something, Cas?”

“Certainly. I believe you are quite able.”

Charlie chuckled at Cas’s literalness. “I was just wondering what you thought of Dean’s new… predicament.”

Charlie expected Cas to take a moment, but instead, his answer came quickly. “I sense your unease. I understand it, but I do assure you that he is the same man he ever has been, albeit somewhat altered. He is of no threat to those he loves, I assure you.” Charlie took in Cas’s words and the tone Cas held as he said them, chuckling as her theory was confirmed. Cas was protecting Dean, even if the stupid Winchester had no idea.

“Well, I’m glad to hear it.” Charlie played with the thoughts she was sitting on, letting them roll around on her tongue as she thought it over. Should she meddle? Who was she kidding? _Of course, she should._ “Can I ask another one?” Charlie smiled when Cas lifted a brow but at least refrained from confirming that she had the mental capability. “What’s up between you and Dean?” Cas looked surprised by the question and probably a bit confused.

“I am not sure what you mean, Charlie.” Cas seemed genuinely confused, but Charlie knew some of it was due to the culture barrier. She didn’t exactly think Cas daft, but based on her read of Chuck’s books, Cas seemed to sometimes miss the more human understanding behind insinuations. So Charlie went the direct route.

“Cas, I’ve read the gospels of Chuck.” Cas nodded in acknowledgment. Charlie went in for the kill, ignoring her knowledge of Dean’s feelings of the subject. It was easier to act completely uninformed. Did she feel bad for lying? Sure, but in the end, they would all be happier, so it sorta worked itself out. Or at least she would reason it that way. “So, forgive me if I got this wrong, but you guys are a couple, right? I’ve been dying to know, but you know how closeted Dean is and-”

“Please slow down, Charlie. I don’t know if I understand. What would make you think that Dean and I are a ‘couple’ as you put it?” Cas tilted his head, and Charlie found the look of it endearing. “You do mean this in a romantic sense, I assume.”

Charlie chuckled, realizing just how astute Cas was. He may have a stunted interpersonal history, but he wasn’t dumb. “Yes. That’s what I mean.” 

“There is nothing between Dean and I.” Charlie heard the conviction in Cas’s words, and if she wasn’t mistaken, a bit of sorrow there too. It was confirmed when he continued, “Dean would never have an interest in such a relationship.” Cas definitely had a tone that suggested his disappointment but sincere resignation in the matter. 

“But you wish that were different.” Charlie didn’t phrase it as a question, because she knew the answer, whether he chose to share it or not. When he stayed silent, she looked back at him, taking her eyes off the road for just a moment. His gaze had gone back out the passenger window, a frown creasing his features. She pushed forward, not sure why she felt this connection to him and need to press into matters that were not her concern in the slightest. Maybe she knew what it was like to be Cas. And maybe she wanted Dean to be happy. Maybe it was a bit of both. “You love him, don’t you?” She still kept her tone as one of certainty but gave Cas the opportunity to respond by phrasing it like a question. “No judgment zone, Cas.”

Charlie waited, and then she saw Cas shift in his seat, turning just a fraction toward her. “I have made it known that I care for Dean. That is not a surprise to anyone.”

Charlie gave a small smile of encouragement. “But you haven’t told him that you love him."

Cas sighed, and Charlie gave the angel props for not backing out. It was sort of nice to talk to someone who wasn’t Winchester levels of repressed. “You may be correct, but I believe that is information that Dean would not find welcome. I have resigned myself to his friendship and I am happy with that.”

Charlie let them lapse into a semi-comfortable silence then, thinking hard on whether she might be able to persuade him or trick him probably, into letting her meddle further. When she saw a turn off coming up ahead that promised shopping and an outlet mall, her wheels turned and she announced that they would be taking a detour. She made sure Cas texted the boys to let them know that they would take a bit longer getting to the case, but that they were stopping for essential supplies. Charlie grinned at the uncertainty in Cas’s eyes, and just reassured him with a gentle pat to the shoulder as she merged to take the upcoming exit.

~~~

Dean paced next to Baby as Sam continued a few last questions with the most recent vic’s family. He checked his phone again, seeing no texts or calls missed and huffed, looking up to see Sam was done and approaching.

“I’m sure they’re fine, Dean.” Sam shook his head, leaning against Baby’s door.

“What exactly is taking them? We’ve been in town for nearly two hours now, they should have caught up.”

“Why do I get the feeling you have more of an issue with being in a monkey suit and they aren’t than the actual amount of time?”

Dean rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to retort when he saw Charlie’s car pull around the corner and park. “Finally,” he spat, taking a few steps toward her car before he froze. Or, well, he waited. Because _Dean Winchester didn’t freeze_. He could face demons, vampires, werewolves, anything. He didn’t freeze. At least that’s what he told himself.

But there was no other word for what happened when Charlie and Cas stepped out of the car. Dean barely processed that Charlie was even present in her new pantsuit, his attention was completely frozen on the image in front of him. Long gone were the ill-fitted clothes of his vessel, now replaced with a slick black suit that hugged the angel’s stockier frame in just the right way. Dean ignored “the right way” for now, taking in more of the new look. Cas now wore a slightly shorter trench coat, and from this distance, it looked like cotton or cashmere, but the part that kept his attention was that the fabric looked soft and touchable and just the darkest black. Dean pushed down the thought of touching the fabric as Cas approached them. He had to contain himself. Breaking his gaze, he looked to Charlie, who looked just too innocent to not seem a bit devious.

“So, another one?” She asked too innocently. Sam nodded and started to fill them in, but Dean’s mind couldn’t keep up, his eyes wanting to drift back to take in more of Cas’s new look.  _ Had he styled his hair?  _ Dean groaned internally as he felt himself acknowledge he was actually checking Cas out. He couldn’t help it. He’d have to have a talk with Charlie later about staying out of it and keeping her mouth shut. He wouldn’t be wondering what Cas’s ass looked like in his new slacks if she hadn’t brought it up. 

It took him no more than 30 seconds of listening to Sam drone on before he decided he needed to escape. It was definitely the droning of Sam’s voice, of course, not the fact that his mind was wandering and his cock starting to have a mind of its own. He nudged Charlie slightly, interrupting her briefing, but before he could tell them where he was headed, she gasped lightly.

“What’s with your eyes?” Her tone was that of shock, and he spun to look in Baby’s side mirror to take in the sight of his black eyes. _Really? Being horny makes my eyes shift now?_ He stood, forcing them back to normal as quickly as he could.

“Nothing, no big deal. I’m headed to the bar, probably find some good intel there, and you guys can finish up here.” 

Sam rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Just focus on intel and not _tail_ , okay? We’ll meet you there soon.” Dean nodded and pulled his keys from his pocket, ignoring Cas’s offer to come along and help. The more he kept his mouth shut and ignored the angel, the better he would get at ignoring what he wanted to say to him.

The first bar he came across was Ricky’s, and as he pulled into the parking lot, he sighed. He had to get a handle on himself. He wasn’t some hormonal teenager that couldn’t control himself. He was Dean Winchester, dammit. He was sex on legs and he could take being attracted to someone he couldn’t have. He just needed to get his head in the game and just focus on the case. That was what he knew how to do. And he did it well.

He scanned the bar as he entered, taking in the low number of people inside. It was early in the afternoon, so while he took comfort in the familiar setting, he understood the emptiness. He approached the bar where a buxom blonde stood with a rag, looking a bit bored until she set her eyes on him. She instantly perked up, giving him a definite look that would have set him on fire if he weren’t trying to ignore that side of himself at the moment.

“Hey there, Beautiful.” He slid onto a stool and fixed her with a no-nonsense stare. “Hate to crash the party here, but I’m looking for some information about the deaths around here.”

She looked just a bit put out and grabbed a glass to wipe with the rag in her hand. “And here I thought you might be the best part of my day.” She gave a jokingly lofty sigh before gesturing back toward the shelves of liquor. “Well, I got two rules about info. You gotta show a badge, and you gotta have a drink with me.” Dean pulled his badge out, flipping it to show her his fake FBI credentials. Normally, he would make something up about needing to stay sober while on the job, but honestly? He _needed_ a drink.

“Make it a Jack and Coke on the rocks, then.” The woman smiled and poured, and handed it to him, waiting for him to take a sip before she leaned against the bar toward him.

“Alrighty then, what do you need to know?” He asked a few questions, but she really didn’t have any leads that they already hadn’t heard, so of course, he felt a bit defeated. He sighed and took another sip of his drink, only to find it was ice alone in his glass. He hadn’t realized just how much he had drank, and he slid the glass back toward her when she reached to refill it.

As she handed it back to him, she paused, holding it away for a second. “Answer me something.” Dean was surprised that she had questions for him, but he shrugged to tell her to go for it. “What’s got you so knotted up that you just downed this? The deaths around here that bad or you got troubles you want to share?” He had to give it to her, she was good at her job. They didn’t say bartenders were therapists for nothing. 

He almost didn’t say anything in response, but he couldn’t help sharing it with someone that wasn’t involved. “Just dealing with the woes of love is all.” 

She handed the glass back with a laugh. “You don’t seem like the kind to fall for someone who doesn’t deserve it. What’s the big?”

Dean couldn’t help confide. It felt good to let it out. “Problem is that he’s my best friend.” The bartender nodded before leaning away against the shelves behind her. 

“Nothing to do with the ‘he’ part of that?” He looked at her with a hard stare, not really sure where she was taking it. She put up her hands like she meant no offense. “I just meant that you don’t look the type. You seem more like the ladies man than well … you know.” She gave him a small smile, but he couldn’t help feel her words hit a little too close to home.

Dean downed his drink and thanked her, garnering a wounded look as he tossed a few bills on the bar. Was _that_ his actual issue? He hadn’t really thought about it, but he had to give the girl some credit. She had pegged him pretty well. 

Stepping outside, he saw a missed text just a moment ago from Sam asking where they should meet him, but he sent back that the bar was a dud and to head to the hotel. As he slid back onto the road, Dean really gave the bartender’s words a thought. He didn’t think the issue lay with his sexuality, but maybe she wasn’t far off. He knew he harbored some old issues when it came to the way he was raised, but he had just always thought of himself as straight. Maybe he wasn’t sure now, but that didn’t make him homophobic. He loved Charlie after all, and she couldn’t be gayer.

He just had to get a few moments to himself after all this was over. Just figure out the case and then he would address it all. Or hide his room until the unwanted thoughts went away. Whichever came first.


	9. Truth and Heartache

When he walked into the hotel room, Charlie was the only one he saw, her head down as she rifled through some papers. The sound of the door closing made her look up and she smiled in the way that said she didn’t have anything new to add. 

“What did you find?” She put the sheets down and turned to face him. 

He sighed as he took a seat on the bed, running him hands over his face. “Just that I might not be exactly as straight as I thought and that potentially is the issue here, not my inability to express my feelings properly.” Charlie gave him a look that said she was a bit shocked at his forthrightness. He shrugged. “ _I know._ It’s not like I talk about my feelings. I might as well have the emotional capacity of a head of lettuce. I bottle everything up and even though I know I’m completely wrong for him, I want nothing more than to kiss Cas the moment he walks back in here.” Dean paused and caught his breath, but then it hit him that CHarlie wasn't shocked, she was stunned speechless, and he processed what he just spewed.

“Dean, why-”

He waved at her general direction to quiet her before trying something. What he planned to say was _I have no feelings for him and I have no idea why I just said that._ What came out, however, was the following: “I’m pretty sure you were spot on and I have feelings for Cas and I have no idea how to stop talking. Why am I still talking?” Once the words left his lips, he cursed.

Charlie leaned toward him on her elbows. “Wait-The cases are about people not being able to lie. _Can_ you lie?” She waited expectantly for him to come up with something to prove it. Dean wracked his brain for a second, his temper flaring over the idea that he had somehow been affected in the few hours they had been in town.

“Let’s Liar, Liar this bitch.” He ignored the confusion on her face and grabbed the pen off the table, checked quickly what color it was, and then said, “This pen is red.” No stuttering or weird pronunciation, even though it was clearly blue. Maybe he wasn’t affected. Maybe it had been a loose tongue for a moment. He looked hopefully back to Charlie. “I have the hots for my best friend.” Except he tried to deny that adamantly so that translated to a big fat nope. He couldn’t lie about that. _What the hell?_

Charlie gave a mix of a grin and grimace. He gave the redhead some points for trying to look remorseful about his suffering. “I think lying isn’t the key here. I think you can’t lie about _feelings_. Stupid stuff doesn’t seem affected.” What she said made sense, but he couldn’t question it since they were interrupted by Sam and Cas coming back into the room, six-packs in hand. 

“Anything new?” Sam asked, putting the beer in the mini-fridge between the beds while Dean tried to keep his mind off anything that might incriminate him in his current state.

“We might have a new piece of the puzzle. Those affected can’t lie, but not just in general. It seems to affect lies about people’s feelings.” Dean caught Charlie’s glance and he thought he saw acknowledgment there. He hoped she wouldn’t force him to say something he didn’t want to. She didn’t exactly say he was affected, so maybe the others wouldn’t notice.

“How did you guys figure that out?” Sam’s gaze shifted from Charlie to Dean. Cas was somewhere, but of course, Dean was making sure not to make any sort of eye contact there for fear of what might happen. “I thought the bar was a bust?” 

“It was, but-”

“Dean sorta can’t lie about his feelings towards... things.” Charlie gave an apologetic half-smile when Dean snapped his eyes back to her. 

“I definitely didn’t want you mentioning that.” Translation: sarcasm is apparently considered lying. Who knew?

Sam started laughing. “Of course, it _would_ be you. I swear we gotta find this thing before your head explodes.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Sammy.”

Sam looked at him with a curious stare and took a seat next to Charlie. Dean didn’t shift to look when Cas slid into the chair next to him. “So, how much does it affect?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like if I ask how you feel about my hair?” Dean could hear the grin in Sam's voice but he could stop what came out of his mouth.

“I actually like your hair when it’s long. It suits you better than the buzz cut Dad gave you when you were twelve.” Dean paused and cursed, causing Sam to laugh again.

“Well, damn. Alright then. We need to kill this thing or reverse it, or something. Any ideas on who it is?”

“The only person I interacted with was the bartender, but I watched her make the drinks. She didn’t roofie me or anything.”

Dean almost snapped at Cas to quit fidgeting when he glanced sideways and caught the angel taking off his suit jacket and vest. Luckily when the words left his lips, they were barely a whisper and easily overlooked. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me right now.” Lord help him, he had a damned Zeppelin shirt on. Someone kill him now. He caught the grin Charlie failed to hide and he got it. She had snaked her way into Cas’s wardrobe to give Dean a reason to give in. He had to hand it to her, she was good. She was also quickly earning a spot on his hit list, but she was good.

Focusing back on the matter at hand, Dean did his best to ignore Cas from then on out as they started dividing up the books and trying to make sense of it.

Six beers later and too many pages, Cas made a small grunt that caught their attention. He looked up briefly before relaying the text below his fingertips. “I believe we might be dealing with a goddess. Aphrodite has been written to have forced untold secrets and feelings out into the open. Many times these tales depict it as an act to bring lovers together, however, there are depictions that have darker tones and endings.”

“So, we kill the bitch.” Dean sat back, tossing his book down now that they had an idea of what they were dealing with. When Cas and Sam both looked unsure, he scoffed. “Knight of Hell, remember? There isn’t much I can’t take out at this point. We just have to figure out where she’s hiding.” Charlie pulled out a map when neither of the other two spoke up.

“Might be nothing, but I thought we might try looking for a pattern.” The three boys leaned in in unison to check what she had discovered. Nothing immediately popped out for Dean. “There was no obvious pattern at first, but then I saw what was directly in the middle of where all the cases supposedly began.” Dean took a closer look before Sam answered the question for him. 

“Factories? That’s the usual hiding spot, so it makes sense. So what, we armor up then?”

Dean shook his head before standing. He pretended it was his duty that forced him out of the chair, but he could feel the effects of the spell or curse or whatever it was inside his mind like an itch he couldn’t quite reach. He figured some space from Cas should lessen it more than anything else.

“Naw, let me check it out first.” When Sam attempted to rebuttal him, Dean kept talking. “Look, I’m basically invincible, so there’s no point in arguing. I’ll go down and check out the buildings and if I find anything I’ll call you guys.” He didn’t give them time to question him. He headed out as quickly as his feet would take him out the door.

~~~

Dean cursed as he cleared the third factory. Still, nothing to be found, and now Charlie’s car was parked next to Baby. Why wouldn’t they listen to him? The last thing he needed right now was to worry about them in the middle of trying to keep his mouth shut. 

In his anger at their foolishness, he almost didn’t register that he didn’t see them anywhere. He shook it off, heading into the last factory, telling himself that there would be nothing inside and he didn’t need to worry. Of course, he was always wrong about that sort of thing.

The building was mostly empty, some scattered machinery and parts strewn against the far wall being the only thing in the open space. That and his three dumbasses tied to chairs and gagged. He cursed under his breath as he surveyed the area as quickly as possible before crossing the space and cutting all their ropes quickly with the First Blade. Sam’s hands flew to his face as soon as they were free, but he didn’t get his warning out in time.

Dean felt himself be thrown across the room just before he got the ropes completely cut off Charlie’s wrists. The air rushed from his lungs as he hit the wall, and while he didn’t need it, it was still as unpleasant as hell. His gaze left his family, knowing Sammy would take care of it and he turned his eyes to the monster before him, shocked to see it as a beautifully deadly looking brunette woman in Greek robes.

Cas helped usher Charlie back towards the entrance, keeping his eyes on the two behind them. Cas cursed internally that they had been taken so easily, but Aphrodite was a tricky one. She had let them get into the space before overcoming them. Being a goddess, she moved quickly and effectively at taking them out.

“Cas, is Charlie alright?” Cas looked to Sam for a moment and nodded.

“She sustained an impact to the head, but she will recover.” She seemed to be coming around already, it appeared. He glanced back and watched as the goddess approached Dean, who was pulling himself up into a standing position. From the look of his soul, Dean was substantially angry at the abuse she had just thrown his way.

“Dean Winchester. What a pleasant surprise.” Her tone gave away nothing, sounding more like someone who was greeting an old colleague. 

“I assume you’re Aphrodite then?” Dean looked like he was seconds from attacking but Cas knew him well enough that he was looking for an opening and stalling her with banter to distract her. Hopefully it worked.

“You are quite a smart little hunter, aren’t you? Well, smart enough to read a bit, I assume. You surely haven’t come here to stop me have you?” 

“Bitch, I’ve come to kill you.”

Aphrodite laughed at Dean and his soul definitely gave away his anger at the nonchalant arrogance the goddess presented. It twisted and spiked around Dean like fire. “You foolish little humans and your threats. Do you think you can just kill a goddess? When we’re done here, you’ll be dead.” She paused, looking back at the three of them, throwing a taunt back over her shoulder. “But I’ll kill your friends first so you can watch.” She started to look back toward Dean. “Won’t that be-“ Her words were cut off as Dean charged her, throwing a punch that connected with her jaw. Cas waited for her to throw him again, but she caught him around the throat.

Dean had only gotten in one good strike when she lifted him off the ground, and even from the distance, Cas could see Dean’s gaze narrow as her fingers squeezed. Cas felt a twinge of worry, realizing something was off in the hunter. His attack was a bit sloppier than normal, as if the curse were throwing him off his usual prowess.

“That was not befitting a goddess, you arrogant little fly.” Dean looked like he might try to retort, but Aphrodite left him no time to do so. “Change of plans, Dean. They get the pleasure of watching you die.” 

Dean’s face turned confused for just a moment before realization struck in the form of Aphrodite’s free hand as it plunged straight through Dean’s chest and out his back, his heart in her hand. 

Cas froze. He couldn’t breathe. He didn’t need oxygen, but it felt like his chest would collapse. He registered the sound of Charlie’s and Sam’s knees hitting the concrete, sobs from one or both of them hitting his ears. He stood ramrod still. His mind was blank as he watched the color drain from Dean’s face, contrasted by a bright stream of blood running down his chin, as his eyes turned glassy.

Aphrodite turned to face them, still holding Dean’s body in the air in front of her. Cas felt his stomach turn in reaction to the small twitches that were running along Dean’s legs as his neurons fired erratically. Blood ran down the arm that was still protruding through Dean’s torso. “You pathetic fools need to learn your place. All we hear is how the Winchesters and their pet angel keep screwing the world over. It ends now.”

Cas tried to respond. Dean would have given a snappy comeback of some kind, but Cas couldn’t seem to control his mouth. 

“Though I have to say I am surprised. I thought a Winchester would be a better fight than this.” She gave a small shrug before continuing. “Humans are so very breakable, aren’t they, Castiel?”

“You forgot one thing.” Cas couldn’t process the sound of Dean’s voice, coming through clear as day, though sounding like it was through gritted teeth. Aphrodite looked back at him, frozen as shock replaced the taunting on her features. “Demon now, a little less breakable. A lot more pissed off.” Dean gave a good kick and mental shove with his soul to dislodge himself from her grasp and arm. The goddess stumbled back away from him as he hit the concrete hard. Cas couldn’t believe the sight his eyes beheld. Dean pulled himself up to his knees and he watched as the demon brought his hand up to his gaping hole of a chest. Dean’s soul rippled and flared around him and he let out a demonic roar and the hole healed itself.

Aphrodite took a cautious step backward. “What are you?” She hissed at him, but Dean looked up with a furious expression.

“Pissed is what I am.” Cas heard a clattering as the First Blade left the floor where it had fallen when Dean had first been thrown, and returned to Dean’s hand. For the first time since Dean had died, Cas witnessed Dean straighten himself fully, extending himself into his demon attributes. His eyes were black as he flicked his gaze quickly to the three of them before returning to focus on the goddess before him.

Dean felt his power roll inside him like a tidal wave. His wings extended out and he allowed them to beat menacingly as he started toward the bitch who ruined one of his favorite shirts. He wasn’t even sure if she could see them, but he didn’t really even give a damn at the moment. He was out for blood. Tensing just a second, he pounced, taking advantage of the shock still on her face.

“Wait.” She pleaded with him as he pinned her high on the wall. He hadn’t even noticed his feet leaving the ground, but he now suspended both of them in the air, his hand wrapped around her throat. “Killing me won’t end the spell.” Dean paused, waiting for her pitiful attempt to weasel her way out of this. “You tell the angel the truth and you’re free. Or you release me and I’ll let you out of it.” She looked nervous, even scared. But Dean didn’t even give it time to sink in before giving her his answer.

“I’m good with that.” Relief passed over her brow just before he shoved the First Blade into her gut. She gasped in horror before she shrieked in agony. A few blood-curdling seconds passed before she disintegrated under his grip and he felt his anger subside. Suddenly hit with everything that had passed in the last few moments, he felt the exhaustion hit him like a freight train and he lost control of his powers, dropping painfully to his knees. 

Cas was by his side in an instant, looking shocked, terrified, and relieved all at once. “Dean, are you alright?” The demon nodded, trying to stand on his own, but stumbling now that the adrenaline wasn’t pumping so hard. 

Dean looked back to the doorway and didn’t miss that Sam and Charlie were staring at him with wide eyes. Cas patted him on the shoulder, and offered, “They’re just concerned and shocked. It will be fine soon enough.” 

The reality of the looks on Sam and Charlie’s face hit Dean hard and he fought to breathe. They were looking at him like he was a monster. There was actual fear back in their eyes. He didn’t blame them, but he couldn’t say it didn’t hurt. He wanted to make them understand that he wasn’t going to hurt them, but when he took a small step forward, he saw Charlie flinch and that did him in. One instant he was there with them, the next he was back in the bunker. He paced his room, trying to sort out exactly what just happened.

Cas sighed as Dean disappeared, no doubt teleporting back to the bunker to hide from it all. He couldn’t fault Dean in the moment for it, and instead approached Sam and Charlie. He saw that the redhead’s hands were trembling and he wished he knew what to say to make her feel better. It was a lot to take in, however, and he didn’t blame her for her fear.

“Cas, what the hell was that?” Sam seemed to have recovered enough to sound just a bit hysterical. His eyes were wide in concern and bewilderment. 

“I am currently unsure. I believe it best that I follow Dean to the bunker while the two of you return with the vehicles.” Sam looked less sure about that route, but he took the keys from his pocket. “I will update the two of you if I learn anything.”

“Cas, I don’t know if I like sending you back there alone. If Dean is dangerous-“ 

Cas cut off Sam in an attempt to assuage his fears. “I do not believe he is. I have a theory, but I will wait until I can speak to him before I confirm it. You two have nothing to be fearful of in your return.”

Sam didn’t look entirely convinced, but Cas didn’t spend time waiting for a response. If he knew Dean, which he definitely did, he knew the hunter was running circles in his head right now, and likely doing himself more harm than good. 

Which was confirmed when Cas knocked at Dean’s door and he didn’t answer. Normally Cas allowed for privacy but in this case, he felt he was justified to open it without invitation. Dean sat on the end of his bed, hands on the sides of his head, muttering to himself. He looked up at Cas as he entered, looking like the devil himself had just waltzed through the door.

“You are the last person I want to see right now.” Dean spat the words like they were burning his tongue on the way out and Cas tried to not let them hurt, but he’d be lying if he said they had no effect on him. He had heard the goddess say that Dean was hiding something. He knew Charlie had been wrong to change his clothes and pilfer a shirt from Dean’s bag, but he really hadn’t thought Dean would react so strongly to petty theft.

“I understand that Dean, but I need to help you process what just happened before Sam and Charlie return.”

Dean looked back up in shock. “Wait, you understand? How can you understand?” He stood, starting to pace the room as words seemed to jumble themselves on their way over his lips. “You can’t possibly get it. You wouldn’t understand. I don’t even-But somehow she did. Of course, she did. Smartest of them all right there. Not smart enough to keep her trap shut. I-“ 

Cas interrupted before Dean’s flurry could take him further. “I understand that you are angry with me, Dean. I would like to postpone that discussion, however-“

“ _ Angry _ ?” The shock in Dean’s voice sidetracked Cas for a moment. “Why in the hell would I be mad at you?” Cas shrugged, suddenly feeling lost for words at the complete denial he heard in the hunter’s voice. The shock alone that he could ever be mad.

“It was the only answer I found as to why you have directly avoided contact with me since the spell began.” When Dean gave him a look that said he was astounded that Cas would come to that conclusion, the angel pursued another avenue. Perhaps in order to discuss the matter of Dean’s healing power, they might need to address the issue of communication. “Aphrodite mentioned that the spell would not end until you spoke your truth to me.” Shock overtook Dean’s features. “Remember, I am a celestial being. My species has exceptional hearing.” 

Dean chuckled at that before his features turned fearful. Cas stepped closer but kept space between them. “Dean, I understand if you are afraid that I will take offense, but if your truth will assuage the spell, I can promise to be understanding.”

Dean looked like the world was on his shoulders. “I’m not afraid you’ll be offended, Cas. I’m afraid of what this means.” Cas didn’t speak, giving Dean the opportunity to continue. The hunter took a deep breath before he blurted out, “Cas, I want you. More than anything I have ever wanted. But I don’t deserve you. Why would I? I’m a demon, for Christ’s sake. You’re an angel and I’m rotten to the core. Everything I touch turns sour and now this will too.” Dean’s tempo was starting to pick up again, and Cas watched as his soul began to spike around him. “You would be crazy to want me back and you should just forget I said anything. I never wanted to say anything. I wouldn’t even have realized but Charlie-“ Cas grabbed Dean then and pulled him forward by his blood-soaked, torn shirt, pressing his lips to the taller man’s. 

The sensation was nothing like anything Cas had ever experienced. The scratch of the stubble Dean wore sent a chill through Cas that spurred him forward. Dean’s arms came up so that his hands could cup Cas’s face. The angel pressed himself against Dean’s chest, feeling like he was on fire and melting. As sudden as it started though, it ended as Dean disappeared from his grasp.

Stumbling against the bed, Cas looked over to find Dean against the wall, a look of shock on his face. Cas stood, trying to make sense of Dean’s reaction, until the demon snapped a low growl at him. It was a single word.

“Out.”

Cas responded just as would be expected, and he teleported into the library, leaving Dean there alone, taking to a chair to collect his thoughts. What had he done wrong? He was sure that Dean had meant that he held a romantic attraction for him, but somehow he had angered him. He tried to play back what Dean had said, but couldn’t figure out what other meaning that demon could have intended. Sighing in frustration, Cas took to the shelves around him, gather materials to confirm his theory. He may not be able to fix whatever error he had made with Dean just now, but he would be prepared to present his hypothesis when Sam and Charlie returned.


	10. Nephalem Troubles and Woes

Dean lay on his bed, trying to steady himself. Cas had kissed him. No holds barred, full-frontal assault on his lips. For about two seconds, Dean had lost himself in the bliss of it, forgetting why he was so against it all, but when his thumb hit stubble, he couldn’t contain his reaction. He wished he could be a better man and say he was completely at peace with it, but he was his father’s son after all. He felt himself completely paralyzed by a fear he hadn’t even known he possessed. He tried as he lay there to tell himself that he reacted the way anyone would when their best friend kissed them, but he felt his stomach turn in disgust as he allowed himself to accept that his reaction was fueled by fear of homosexuality in himself rather than shock.

He didn’t think he’d even be able to bring himself to speak to Cas ever again. How would he explain it?  _ Sorry buddy, thought I was attracted to you, but turns out I’m a raging homophobe. Good news though! It means you don’t have to deal with the fallout of dating me. _ Yeah, Dean was sure that would go over like a lead balloon. 

He struggled with his self-loathing, oscillating between pure hatred for his bigotry and embarrassment at his rambling when a knock came again at his door. He sat up quickly, feeling his head rush at the speed.

“Can I come in?” Charlie’s voice was weak on the other side of the door. Dean winced at her discomfort.

“Sure, go-wait.” He heard the knob turn halfway before stopping. He grabbed a shirt from the floor and shed the one he wore. It did nothing for the dried blood on his skin, but at least Charlie wouldn’t have to see the aftermath.

He slid off the bed and opened the door. “Sorry kiddo, I was changing.” Somehow that sent Charlie into a bit of hysterical sounding laughter, and Dean tried not to belie how worried he felt that the craziness from earlier had done her in.

“Sorry, it’s just, you literally were in my room yesterday in a towel, and today you’re Mister Privacy?” Dean chuckled at the revelation, and he felt a little lighter as he processed that she wasn’t flinching away from him. “I just came to get you. Cas is calling a meeting in the war room.”

Dean nodded and teleported there without thinking, his mind still a mess even with the bit of levity. He didn’t even think about it until Charlie came into the room, mumbling about having to walk when everyone else could just poof around.

Cas sat in front of a pile of books, looking tired but proud of himself. Sam still seemed wary but was patiently waiting silently. Dean sat across from Cas, waiting for the angel to give the goods.

“I believe I have the answer we did not know we were looking for.” He handed a book to Dean, and the demon looked down to the pages it was open to.

“Nephalem? Didn’t we run across one of those? What’s this about?”

Cas shook his head. “I believe you are thinking of a Nephilim, which is a half-angel, half-human hybrid. I believe you to be a Nephalem, a half-angel, half- _demon_ hybrid.”

Dean looked up in shock, ignoring the book as he dropped it to the table. “Wait, I’m _what_?” He felt a bit better seeing his own confusion mirrored on Charlie and Sam’s faces as well. 

Cas gestured to the book. “Until now I believed them to be theoretical, but I have had reservations about your demonic self since you returned.” Dean wanted to shake the angel, but he instead chose to use his words. 

“Since I returned? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“As I said, I had reservations, but until you healed yourself, I was unsure. Your wings were the first sign that something was different, but I felt that it could just be how you chose to manifest yourself.” Dean’s mind reeled.

“Wait, my wings, what’s wrong with my wings?” 

“Nothing implicitly, Dean. But they are quite different from others of your kind, and much more similar to those of mine.”

“So being a Nephalem, what exactly does that mean? Why did the Mark make him one?” Sam sounded like he was coming around quickly, and Dean thanked his lucky stars that his brother was a nerd.

“I am still uncertain of the cause, but I theorize that it is due to his position with Heaven.” Before Dean could argue that he had no affiliation, Cas amended, “Former. You were the Righteous Man, Dean. That has left a mark upon your shoulder that even the Mark seems to not have been able to erase. I also suppose that the Mark twisted your soul, but not in the same fashion that centuries in Hell would achieve. If you were not marked by Heaven already, we probably would have seen no difference, but we cannot know that for certain.”

Dean tried to make sense of it, but he still felt like he was ears deep in murky water. Sam nodded along however, sighing and relaxing back into his chair. “So he’s not a threat.”

Dean felt a spark of anger at his brother then. “Hey, right here, Bitch. And why would I ever hurt any of you? I thought we were passed that.”

Sam grimaced. “I’m sorry, Dean. It’s a gut reaction. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Cas seemed to deem that the end of the conversation, because he stood and excused himself back into the library, saying he wanted to find any further lore that might be available on the topic. Charlie followed quickly after, giving Dean a quick smile and saying she was glad he was ok. Which left Dean there with his brother, who kept looking at him like a dog looks at a high pitched noise. 

Dean stood, grumbling as he opened a cabinet, hearing Sam make some sort of questioning noise behind him, and again when he turned back to meet Sam’s gaze with a bottle in his hand.

“I think we need some bro time, Sammy. You, me, and Johnny, Dad’s favorite kid.” Sam chuckled and took the glass when Dean offered it. 

“I really am sorry, Dean.” Dean waved it away, but Sam continued. “I mean it. You have had every chance to turn on us, but you haven’t. Being a demon really isn’t what Dad taught us, just black and white, and I need to remember that with us.”

Dean grunted in response as he took his chair again, ignoring what Sam’s words brought forward in his mind. At least he ignored it then. But after six glasses and a lot of laughs with his brother, he brought it back to the front and said something he couldn’t believe.

“Sammy, you know what you said, what Dad taught us and all?” Sam nodded and his eyes seemed to squint just slightly in his focus. “What about other stuff he said?” Sam tilted his head, letting Dean know that his nondescript question wasn't enough for him to understand. “Do you think dad messed us up about other things too?”

Sam didn’t even wait two full seconds before a barking laugh erupted. “Of course he did.” Dean wasn’t surprised when Sam sobered at the look he probably had on his face. “He did the best he could, Dean. We both know that. But he was dealing with shit and was from a different era. Why the sudden trip down memory lane?” 

Dean shrugged and took a sip of his beer. He didn’t want to admit it, but becoming a demon hadn’t wiped away every bit of baggage he had from their past. “Don’t know, just sorta wonder sometimes how Dad would have felt about some of the stuff nowadays. Like Charlie. You know how he was about... gay stuff.”

Sam nodded and shrugged. “Dad would have had his hands full and would have loved her just like we do.” Dean was shocked by Sam's complete belief in the man. “Like I said, he was from a different time. But Dad really wasn’t ever a bad guy. I think he’d have come around with everything now.” Sam stood, downing the last of his glass. He clapped Dean on the back, a silent signal that he was headed away to bed. Dean leaned back in his chair, staring at the liquid in the glass in his hand. Just inside the hall, Sam called back over his shoulder to Dean.

“Dad would have been fine with anyone any of us loved.” He gave Dean a soft but pointed look before heading away, leaving Dean to contemplate just what he meant by that.

~~~

Cas wandered out of the library early in the morning, rubbing the back of his hand across his eyes. Ever since regaining his grace, while still fully powered, he had felt the call of human comforts. He still enjoyed sandwiches and every so often he would find himself laying down in his room for a nap. He didn’t strictly need it, but he found comfort in the time of disconnection.

His eyes were closed behind his hand when he bumped into someone in the hall, both headed in opposite directions. He stumbled, catching Charlie by the shoulders as she nearly lost grip of her cup of coffee. The hot liquid splashed onto her skin and she hissed.

“Charlie, I am so sorry. Let me.” The grimace on her face faded as he tapped his fingers to her skin, the redness that was already blossoming disappearing instantly. 

“Thanks, Cas.” She looked tired, or perhaps freshly awake, and he couldn’t help following her down the hall as she continued.

“It is my pleasure. May I ask you something, Charlie?” He had been replaying Dean’s words throughout the night and he had only found one small piece that could give him any idea of how to proceed. She nodded as she sipped her coffee, leaning against the doorframe of her room. “Dean mentioned your name last night and I have no idea who else to speak to. I am quite sure I have upset him, but I have no idea why. When I kissed him-“

Charlie made a noise somewhere between a shriek and a gasp before she pulled them both into her room, closing the door behind her. 

“Tell. Me. Everything.” When Cas didn’t immediately respond, both out of embarrassment and shock of her apparent excitement, she set her coffee down on the desk and jumped up onto her bed. She patted the bed next to her, bouncing a bit on her knees. “Come sit, Cas.”

“I am not sure how to explain.” He approached, sitting on the edge of her bed, causing her to roll her eyes.

“Cas, I’m gonna be blunt. We’re gonna sit here and gossip and be the best of girlfriends. So get all the way up here and spill the beans!” Cas smiled at her enthusiasm and pulled himself fully onto the bed. “Shoes off.” He glanced down at his feet, chuckling as he kicked them off and to the floor. He leaned back against her headboard and tucked his legs off to the side.

“I believe your excitement stems from my admittance of kissing Dean.” Charlie nodded vigorously, and Cas sighed. “I believe I told you that he would not welcome the physical contact. I was correct in my assumption.”

Charlie’s face fell. “He didn’t kiss you back?”

Cas thought for a moment. “I believe he did momentarily, but he then responded as I expected. He teleported to the other side of his room and ordered me to leave.”

Charlie pursed her lips. “What _exactly_ did he say?” 

“I believe the exact word was ‘out’.” Cas gave Charlie a droll stare.

“Well, that’s not what I meant.” Cas tilted his head. “Before that. Why did you kiss him?”

“He was in a state of mindless rambling. The spell had caused him some great distress and I told him that he could tell me whatever had angered him, but instead, he announced that he wanted… me? I don’t understand, Charlie. What else could he have meant?”

Charlie gave a small smile. “He meant what you thought. He just didn’t realize you would want him back.” Cas wasn’t sure about that at all, given Dean’s reaction.

“Why would he then-”

Charlie put her hand on his arm, giving him a look that seemed to contain top secrets and somehow the simplest answer that he should already know, at the same time. “Dean thinks he’s straight.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Cas, you’re a guy. He’s a guy, so…” She trailed off, seeming to think he would understand the greater meaning. His head just swam and settled on literal interpretations.

“I am a celestial wavelength of intent, Charlie.”

“But when Dean looks at you, he sees your vessel. You’re all Jimmy as far as his eyes are concerned. And his sexuality, for that matter.”

Cas thought about this for a moment. “Dean has shown a proclivity for female partners. I have to say I was faulted in not taking that into consideration.” Another idea passed through him and he looked to Charlie in a moment of uncertainty. “Would it be prudent to seek a female vessel?”

Charlie grimaced and scoffed. “That’s exactly the wrong thing to do. He likes you for you, Cas. You shouldn’t change that.” She looked like she had an idea. By the size of her grin, he was starting to realize that he should be afraid of when she got ideas. “I think I know what you can do.”


	11. Bacon Is The Candy Of Seduction

Dean jumped nearly out of his skin as he felt Cas touch his shoulder. He pulled the headphones off his ears, losing the volume of Zeppelin’s calming tones. 

“Dude, don’t do that!” Dean straightened up to sit back against his headboard. Cas took a seat at the end of the bed, meeting Dean’s gaze with a bit of a smile. Dean took in the fact that Cas was still wearing his Zeppelin shirt, and while his hair was no longer staying completely gelled into place, it looked damned good in its disrupted state.

“I apologize. I did attempt to knock, but when you gave no response, I chose to proceed. I assumed you were deafening yourself with your music and could not hear my calls.”

Dean shrugged, hiding how accurate Cas’s assumption was. “So, what do ya need? There a case or something?”

Cas tilted his head, a small hidden grin playing at the corners of his mouth. “In a sense, I suppose we might call this that. However, I do believe I already have cracked it, as you would say.”

“What is it?”

“We might call it the case of you, Dean. I understand why you responded the way you chose to.” 

Dean interrupted, “You should let it go, Cas. I made a mistake by even telling you and-”

Cas continued as if Dean hadn’t even spoken. “I accept that you have some reservations about my vessel’s sex. But I believe it is in both our best interests to give you time to overcome this setback.”

Dean shook his head, not really sure what Cas was getting at. “Cas, what the hell are you saying?”

Cas stood, stretching a bit as he did. Dean told himself that he was completely focused on Cas’s face and not his exposed midriff that he desperately wanted to lick.

“I believe the answer here is time, Dean. So I will wait for you to confront your demons. After this, you will be the next one to act. I shall keep my hands to myself, as one might say.” Cas came around the bed, placing a hand on Dean’s bewildered cheek, before kissing him briefly. As he pulled back, Dean caught a devilish grin on his lips that made him immensely thankful he was seated right about then.

“What makes you think I’ll give in, Cas?” Dean meant the line to come out as playful and snarking, but the tremble in his voice gave away how much he was still unsure of himself and how thrown he was at Cas’s sudden self-assurance.

Cas pulled back and headed toward the door, reaching the doorway as he spoke. “I know you will give in, Dean, because you are a creature of comforts. You have so little self-control when you want something that brings you pleasure.” Cas gave a wicked grin before heading out the door, stopping as he closed it to finish with, “Disregarding all else, I get what I want, and I am not known to play fair.”

As the door clicked into place, Dean leaned his head back against the headboard and cursed. When had Cas figured out how to be confident and sexy? _He was doomed_.

~~~ 

Cas’s hands trembled as he walked back down the hall away from Dean’s room. He took Charlie’s advice, amplifying what little confidence he felt. Once in the room, however, he knew she had been right. Dean was the one who needed to make the next move, as it would only set him back further if Cas were to keep pushing. But the pleasant surprise came in the look he saw in Dean’s eyes. There was uncertainty, quite certainly, but he also caught a flair of heat there as well. He had known Dean to respond well to a confident woman over the years, and he found himself pleased to know that Dean responded similarly to his own confidence. He just had to wait patiently for Dean to make his move. 

Too bad he wasn’t exactly the most patient angel out there.

~~~

Dean came out of the room not much later expecting a full-on assault to his will power. Instead only his nose was assaulted, the smell of bacon wafting down the hall. As much as the smell enticed him, it also confused him. Sammy wouldn’t be cooking it, so exactly where was the smell coming from?

Heading into the kitchen, Dean felt his pace faulted when his eyes took in the sight before him. Cas was standing over the stove, bacon sizzling in the pan. Pajama pants rode low on his hips, a moth-eaten grey tee concealing his torso. As he moved to turn a piece of the bacon, Dean caught sight of a slim strip of skin between the two garments. Cas tossed a smile over his shoulder.

“Hello, Dean.” 

He forced himself forward to take a seat on one of the stools and let Cas have a small smile in return. “What are you doing?” 

Cas was the picture of innocence as he slid a plate of bacon toward Dean. “I was under the assumption that you might like a little breakfast, one not prepared by your brother’s healthier inhibitions.”

Dean chuckled as he took a piece of bacon, reveling in the taste of grease and salt. “You know I don’t have to eat, Cas.”

“And yet here you are, eating my bacon. Creature comforts, after all.” Cas gave a sly grin. 

Dean rolled his eyes to evade how well Cas was playing him. “Well, bacon _is_ the candy of meats, Cas.”

And so the games began between them. Cas was the ever-persistent but patient cat, toying with Dean and pressing a button here or there when the mood struck him. Dean couldn’t find a rhyme or reason behind when Cas’s playful teasing would strike. But as much as he feared he would crack under the pressure of the game, he found he was growing to love their little chase.

It wasn’t every day that Cas would antagonize him, but the uncertainty and thrill of never knowing kept Dean bundled tight. Some days were more obvious than others, Cas giving sly comments or leaning in as if to kiss him before passing by without making contact. Others passed with little touches, a brush of the hand on his skin, Cas’s fingertips grazing his neck when Sam wasn’t paying attention. The contact would send sparks through him, making him want to pounce on the angel. But he always waited for those moments when Dean would be forced to hold himself together, somehow knowing that the wait would make Dean coil even tighter.

Dean had begun to feel a tingle under his skin any time Sam was around, knowing he was likely to be assaulted before the day was through. Days that passed without contact felt dark and aching, while those that brought the comfort of touch were ecstasy and chaos.

But when Dean wandered into the war room some month or so after Cas’s last verbal acknowledgment, he found a note from Sam that was left to let him know that his brother had taken off for a day or two to help Jody with the girls. He rolled his eyes, knowing Sam was just dying to get out of the bunker. Dean was always seen as the reckless one, the one who would itch for a case to get him on the road. But Sam could be even more flighty, especially when they had a dry spell in cases as they had now. Dean felt both disappointment and relief at the knowledge that his brother would be gone for a time. That might mean Cas would give him some reprieve. 

He headed to the kitchen to retrieve some supplies, taking comfort in his love of his car. It always calmed him to give her a bit of his time, to make sure she shined just like a new penny. But when he noticed Baby’s cleaning supplies were not in the bucket that he kept under the sink, he turned around, taking in the sounds of the bunker. Nothing really seemed out of order, but somehow he felt a familiar sizzle run through his veins.

It was as he headed toward the garage that he caught it. The familiar notes, the sounds of Jimmy Page’s deft fingers making harmony with Plant’s lyrics. As he opened the garage door, _I Can't Quit You Baby_ took over his ears and the sight that lay before him made him harder than he had ever known possible.

~~~

Cas’s hips swayed to the music as he leaned over the impala’s hood, his shirt slick with soapy water and sweat. The sound of the door behind him made him turn, rag in hand, to see a black-eyed Dean in the doorway.

“Hello, D-“

His greeting was cut short as Dean flew to him in the span of a human heartbeat. One of Dean’s hands came up to grip his face, the other grabbing him at his waist. A sigh left his lips as Dean pulled him into a kiss that was somehow fiery and soft and passionate and tentative all at one time. Dropping the rag, his fingers grabbed at Dean’s hips, grinding his groin into Dean’s, earning a moan from the both of them at the friction.

“You win, Cas.” Dean chuckled, leaning his head down against Cas’s shoulder. “I give in.”

Cas sighed, a small laugh in his chest as his fingers ran up over Dean’s back and he felt the muscles tense and coil under his fingertips. “Finally.” The last month had been nearly as tense for him as he was sure it was for Dean. He was liberated in the way he made Dean tense and react over time, but he wanted nothing more than to give in and make his move. Screw Dean and his needs. He wanted the demon. “Took you long enough.”

Dean laughed before he kissed Cas again, breaking away quicker this time. Cas didn’t get a chance to question why, because Dean then grabbed Cas by the hips, pushing him back onto Baby’s hood. Instinct took over and Cas wrapped his legs around Dean’s hips.

~~~

Dean lay with his head on Cas’s chest, his breath slowly returning to a normal pattern. Some part of his mind wandered and wondered why they were both breathless when oxygen wasn’t necessary, but he mentally waved it away. He wasn’t going to ruin their moment by trying to understand science.

The leather of Baby’s back seat squeaked as he rolled to look up into Cas’s face. The angel looked like a mixture of pleased with himself and that sort of tired that only comes when you’re completely content.

“So what now, Feathers?” Dean pulled his arm out from between the leather and Cas’s skin to lean on it. 

“What do you mean, Dean?” He loved the little head tilt he gained from his question. Dean had never really realized just how much he enjoyed all of Cas's idiosyncracies. No matter how irritated the angel could make him during movies.

“What happens now?” Dean gave Cas what he hoped was a serious look, though he was seriously getting distracted by the line of Cas’s jaw. “For us?”

Cas laughed and pulled him down into a kiss, breaking to whisper, “We have the rest of eternity to figure that out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what did you lovely people think?
> 
> I feel weird knowing this is done. I have had this story in my head for a long time, but I was able to work out all the details with my artist, Nonexistenz.
> 
> I still feel like there are parts that I didn't explore. So maybe some deleted scenes sometime? Or maybe, dare I, a sequel? Would anyone be interested in that?
> 
> Feel free to leave a kudos or comment. Especially if you have any suggestions that could help me be a better storyteller!


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